The Knight and the Not-Quite-Lady: Gwaine and Wynne
by DandelionViolet
Summary: Wynifred, a tomboyish lady-in-training, wants to be a proper lady to impress Sir Gwaine, with whom she is smitten, but she gets into unladylike scrapes from which Gwaine ends up rescuing her. Stand alone, but contemplating turning this into a full story. I do not own Merlin.
1. Chapter 1

Lady Magdalen clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "You have done well this morning, ladies," she said, although her sour expression suggested otherwise. "You may all be excused until midday when we will resume your lessons. I strongly advise you to use your time wisely, perhaps practicing your needlework or some other quiet pursuit." She spoke to all the ladies, but her cold eyes fixed on Wynne.

Wynne sighed and watched as the other young ladies walked demurely off to collect their needlework or practice singing or some other proper pursuit. She had had quite enough of being a proper lady for the time being, so she quickly ducked outside into the bright sunshine.

Out in the courtyard, Wynne threw back her head and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh spring air and enjoying the warm sunshine on her face. Even in the winter, Wynne hated being confined to the castle, instead preferring to be out in the village seeing what everyone was doing or out in the woods watching the animals. Opening her eyes, she looked around her, trying to decide where to go to forget about her lessons for awhile. She finally decided to go walking just outside the city gates. Maybe she could pick some of the wildflowers that grew close to the moat; even Lady Magdalen couldn't find fault with that.

She walked slowly through the gates, looking around her as though she expected to see someone. Finally sighing heavily, she picked up her pace. Although many people were coming and going, she didn't see the person she had been hoping to see. She had hoped to "accidentally" run into Gwaine. Even though she had heard Queen Guinevere and a number of other ladies say that Gwaine was a shameless flirt, she couldn't help feeling giddy whenever he smiled at her or spoke to her. He was, at least in her eyes, the handsomest of the knights of Camelot. He didn't treat her as a child the way Sir Perceval, Sir Leon or Sir Elyan did, nor did he raise his eyebrows in disapproval when he caught her engaging in swordplay with one of the boys. Wynne smiled to herself as she recalled the first time Gwaine had come upon her practicing sword fighting with her cousin Boris.

_Boris had been unable to find another boy to practice with, and since he knew Wynne quickly tired of her lessons in being a lady, he had sought her out and persuaded her to join him in the practice fields. As they danced around each other, their swords clashing loudly, all of a sudden a shadow had fallen across them and Gwaine stepped in to snatch Wynne's sword from her. "Wynne, I'm surprised at you," he said sternly. Thinking he was about to chastise her for behavior that was inappropriate for a lady, she had lowered her head and waited for him to continue. "As often as you have watched the squires practicing with swords, you should know better than to hold your sword like that. Hold it up in front of you like so." He showed Wynne how to hold the sword properly and then handed it back to her._

_ Wynne took the sword from him, gazing up into his brown eyes a moment longer than she needed to. Her hands shook as she raised her sword again to face Boris. Gwaine stepped in and put his hands over Wynne's and adjusted her stance to show her how to attack more effectively. When he stepped back to let them spar, Wynne had gone after Boris more zealously than before. They danced around each other, swinging and striking. Boris was bigger, stronger, and far more experienced with the sword, but Wynne was determined to best him to impress Gwaine._

_Wynne could hear Gwaine shouting instructions both to her and to Boris as each tried to best the other. Wynne's arms began to ache, and with every hit of Boris' sword they became weaker, and her sword became heavier and harder to wield. Finally, Boris struck so hard that Wynne's sword flew from her hands and she fell backwards, hard, landing on her back in the grass. Suddenly, Boris loomed over her, his face contorted with bloodlust. He raised his sword high above her as though he'd run her through. She raised her hands to cover her face and screamed tearfully. Suddenly Gwaine came between them, shouting, "Hold!" _

_ Wynne lowered her arms and stared up at them. The malicious look was gone from her cousin's face, and he laughed down at her, "Some knight you are, cousin, screaming and crying like a girl."_

_ Feeling her face flame at Boris' observation, Wynne lowered her eyes. So much for impressing Gwaine, she thought to herself. She heard Gwaine laugh kindly and looked up to see him offering her his hand to help her up. "Boris, in case you haven't noticed, your cousin is a girl." He kissed her hand jauntily and said with a wide grin, "And a very pretty girl, too."_

_ Boris made a face of disgust at Gwaine's comment, and Wynne stuck her tongue out at him. Gwaine looked at Wynne with admiration. "Wynne, I am impressed. You held him off much longer than I would have expected you to. You have the makings of a fine knight of Camelot."_

_ Wynne gazed up at him hopefully, almost more flattered by that statement than by his saying she was pretty. "Truly, Gwaine? You think so?" She felt her cheeks flaming again, this time with pleasure._

_ With an expression of mock fear, Gwaine ducked down and said, low, "Shh, lass, don't let Lady Magdalen know I said that. She'll thrust me through with my own sword if she finds I've been putting ideas in your head." Then he laughed at his own joke. Wynne giggled too, as much at his comment as at the expression on his face. It was obvious that Gwaine thought as little of Lady Magdalen as Wynne did._

_ "She could never be a knight anyway; she's training to be a laaaadyyyy," Boris sneered, taunting his cousin again. "Although she isn't much of a lady either."_

_ Enraged, Wynne snatched the sword from Boris' unsuspecting hand and smacked him upside the head with the flat of the blade. "You won't make much of a knight either if I cut your ugly head off," she spat._

_ "See what I mean?" Boris laughed, rubbing his head. "She's not a proper lady. She's not a lady at all."_

_ Wynne dropped the sword and rushed at Boris, tackling him and pummeling him with her fists. Boris refused to fight back because Wynne was a girl, but only held his hands up to protect himself from her blows. Gwaine, laughing, stepped in to pull Wynne off of him. As he grabbed both her arms and hauled her up, she yelled, "Boris, you are nothing but a clotpole."_

_ "Wynifred," Lady Magdalen's voice called out. "Whatever do you think you're doing?" Wynne stopped struggling, and Gwaine released her arms so she could stand up. She cowered against Gwaine as Lady Magdalen came storming across the courtyard. She cringed, wondering how much Lady Magdalen had seen of what just occurred._

_ Boris took off running, at her approach, but Gwaine stepped in and bowed apologetically. "Lady Magdalen, I implore you, don't be harsh with young Lady Wynifred. I accept full responsibility; I was teaching her how to wield a sword. And quite a fine swordswoman she is."_

_ "I am well aware of who is at fault here, Sir Gwaine," Lady Magdalen hissed in an icy voice that would have stolen the fire from a dragon. "Lady Wynifred is headstrong and needs no help in finding ways to behave that are unbefitting a lady. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from encouraging her."_

Wynne rubbed her arm at the memory of Lady Magdalen grabbing her roughly and practically dragging her back to the castle in disgrace. She had cast one forlorn glance over her shoulder at Gwaine, who was standing there shaking his head in disgust. Wynne had felt terrible for getting Gwaine chastised by Lady Magdalen, but he had only laughed when she apologized to him later.

As she picked daisies, cornflowers and chicory, Wynne let her mind wander where it would. She smiled to herself as she plucked a daisy and tucked it in her hair, thinking about the day she had first laid eyes on Gwaine, when he had first come to Camelot. He had snatched a daisy from one of the girls selling flowers in the marketplace and presented it to Gwen as she walked by. He bowed and flirted with her, telling her she was the most beautiful princess he had ever seen; she had giggled and blushed and told him she was nothing but a servant. Wynne closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how she had wished—still wished—for Gwaine to look at her that way, to flirt with her that way. She sighed contentedly and resumed picking flowers, vowing to herself to concentrate more fully on becoming a proper lady. Maybe then Gwaine might ask to court her.

Wynne glanced down at the large bouquet she had gathered, breathing in their sweet scent, and was about to carry them inside for Berte the cook when a small, urgent voice caught her attention. "Wynnie! Wynnie, down here! Help us!"

She stepped closer to the edge of the moat and looked down. There, ankle deep in moat water, were Rhys and Madoc, two of the newest pages at Camelot. Rhys held a small basket that was dripping water from its bottom, and Madoc held a burlap sack that trailed down into the muddy water. Wynne stifled a giggle and called down, "What are you two doing?"

"We're trying to catch the bullfrog, the big one," Madoc answered, tugging his britches up in the back. "Will you help us?"

Wynne looked back at them doubtfully. She had actually managed two whole days without earning more than a disapproving sigh from Lady Magdalen; for her that was an accomplishment, and she didn't want to ruin it. She also recalled the vow she had made not ten minutes past to try to act like a proper lady. She was sure that a proper lady wouldn't go chasing bullfrogs in the moat. Still, she couldn't bear to see their pouting faces, so she agreed reluctantly to help them.

She laid her flowers carefully on the bank and glanced quickly around to make sure no one was watching. Seeing no one, she climbed carefully down the bank, trying not to rumple her dress too much. Rhys and Madoc chortled, delighted that their friend was willing to help them complete their quest. "Where is the bullfrog?" Wynne whispered close to the boys' ears.

Rhys pointed to a greenish-brown lump half submerged in the moat among the bulrushes. Wynne took the basket from Rhys and leaned close to whisper to Madoc. "I'm going to try to scoop him into the basket. You be ready with the sack when I bring him out of the water."

Madoc nodded solemnly and wrung out his sack while Wynne removed her shoes and tied up the hem of her dress as high as she thought was proper, hoping she didn't get too wet.

Picking up the basket, Wynne whispered, "Ready?" When Madoc nodded again, she began stealthily walking along the bank towards the bulrushes. As she got closer, the bullfrog fidgeted. She froze and motioned for Madoc to freeze too. The frog settled in again, and Wynne crept to the water's edge. She had to move slowly so she wouldn't disturb the water too much and alert the frog to her presence. Ever so carefully, she waded out towards the frog, pausing several times when the frog seemed to sense her presence. She was almost close enough now; she got the basket ready and prepared to pounce. She felt her hem come loose and tumble into the water. Bother! Well, she couldn't worry about that now. She turned to Madoc and mouthed, "Ready?"

Eyes aglow with excitement, Madoc nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Wynne slowly and carefully raised the basket, extending it out in front of her. Suddenly, she pounced, bringing the basket down over the frog with a splash. She knew she had the frog because she could feel it hopping against the overturned basket. "Madoc!" she cried. "Bring the sack now!"

Madoc rushed to her side, knocking her off balance in his haste. Wynne toppled sideways into the moat, squealing as she hit the cold moat water. Losing hold on one side of the basket, Wynne snatched the sack from Madoc and tried to prevent the frog from escaping. She made a frantic grasp as she saw the frog leap from the basket. "Wynnie, he's getting away!" Madoc wailed.

"Not if I can help it," Wynne exclaimed, diving after the frog. She plunged both hands into the moat in pursuit of the disappearing amphibian. She felt something large moving inside the sack, and she closed her hands around it. She lost her footing and slipped completely underwater. Refusing to let go of her quarry, she hugged the thrashing frog close to her body as she tried to stand up without using her arms. From the shore she could hear shouts—Rhys' and someone else's.

Suddenly, she was being hauled from the moat by the back of her dress. As her head came above water, she sputtered and took a gasp of air. Her eyes were covered with something dank-smelling and slimy; she was still clutching the frog to her chest, so she couldn't wipe it away. She felt herself being dropped on the bank, and then a male voice asked, "Wynne, what the blazes were you doing?"

Oh no! Gwaine! He began plucking algae from her face and hair while she uselessly wiped her face against her wet shoulder and answered, still sputtering, "I was helping the boys catch a frog." Feeling the frog still struggling against her, she added proudly, "And I got him! Look!"

She dropped the wriggling sack on the ground. Rhys and Madoc both wailed, "Oh, Wynnie, no!"

Gwaine doubled over with laughter and said, "I think you'd better look again, lass."

Wynne raised herself onto one elbow and stared down at her catch. It wasn't the bullfrog after all. She had caught, almost with her bare hands, a large fish. Her face fell as she realized she had failed. She watched dejectedly as the fish flopped its way back into the moat and disappeared with a splash. She sat up and looked down at herself. She was soaked from head to toe, muddy, and covered with algae. At least my shoes are still dry, she thought ruefully.

"Here, Wynnie," Rhys said apologetically. She looked over to see Rhys holding her sopping wet shoes. "I'm sorry. I knocked them into the moat by accident."

Taking them from him with a sad sigh, she responded, "It's all right, Rhys. I'm sure they wouldn't have stayed dry for long." She looked down again at her ruined dress and then glanced up at Gwaine, wondering what he must be thinking of her.

There was no condemnation in his eyes, only amusement at her predicament. He joked, "Maybe you should have kept the fish to take to Berte. Your cousin spent the whole morning fishing and caught nothing." Wynne turned her eyes away and said nothing. So much for acting like a proper lady, she thought miserably. Gwaine will never see me as a lady. She felt his hand on her arm, and she looked up at him again. "Come on, then," he said softly. "Let's get you back to the castle for some dry clothes."

Gwaine helped her climb the bank, and they started towards the castle. As they passed the spot where she had only a little while earlier been picking wildflowers, she caught sight of her colorful bouquet. Her intentions had been so good, but once again she had failed. The realization of the trouble her impulsiveness was going to get her into—again—hit her hard, and silent tears began to course down her cheeks, mixing with the dank moat water.

As they neared the castle, she noticed to her chagrin that Boris and several other squires were gathered beneath a tree with Sir Leon and Sir Perceval, taking a break from their own lessons. Boris spotted them and cried out, "Beware! Gwaine has captured a moat monster!"

Looking over and catching her eye, Ulrich, a tall, dark-haired squire laughed derisively and said, "That's no moat monster. That's your cousin, Wynne."

"What's the difference?" Boris retorted, laughing. Then he sang out, "She's not a lady, and she can't be a knight. She's just Wynifred, and she looks like a fright."

Sir Leon reached over and cuffed Boris while Sir Perceval turned and chastised him. That should have made Wynne feel better, but the damage was already done. Her silent tears turned to ashamed whimpers and sniveling as sobs racked her body. Gwaine put his arm protectively around her shoulders and called sternly over to Boris and Ulrich, "You lads will never be knights either if you treat a young lady so. You should turn your attention back to your lessons."

Thinking to avoid any other confrontations, Gwaine decided to sneak Wynne in through the kitchens. Treading carefully through the muddy spots where the servants had dumped their wash waters earlier, Gwaine and Wynne entered through the rear door. No sooner had they stepped into the kitchen than Berte caught sight of Wynne's tear-stained, swollen face and her drenched, ruined dress. She bustled across the room and gathered Wynne into her ample chest. "Oh, my precious lass, what mischief have you gotten into this day?" She glanced gratefully at Gwaine and said, "Thank you for rescuing her again; you always seem to appear at the right time."

Gwaine smiled sheepishly at Berte, then winked at Wynne and grabbed an apple, hoping to make a discreet exit before Lady Magdalen could appear and give him another what-for. Honestly, he had battled armies and fire-breathing dragons and even come face to face with dorocha, and none of those frightened him more than did Lady Magdalen.

Unfortunately for him, just as he reached for the door, Lady Magdalen came storming in. "Berte, the Queen requests…" She caught sight of Gwaine. "Oh, beg pardon, Sir Gwaine. I didn't know you were here." Her eyes found Berte and then caught sight of Wynne. "OH! Wynifred!" She whirled around to face Gwaine and blazed, "What is the meaning of this? What trouble have you brought to her this time?"

Despite the fear that Lady Magdalen inspired in him, Gwaine threw out his arms and sputtered indignantly through a mouthful of apple, "I got her in no trouble, Lady. I pulled her out of the bloody moat!"

Lady Magdalen's eyes widened in horror, and Gwaine realized he had said too much. He tried to speak, but Lady Magdalen swung around to face Wynne again. "The moat? What business could a proper lady have in the moat?"

"Lady, if you please, she was…" Gwaine began, stepping towards her.

Lady Magdalen rounded on him again, pointing directly between his eyes. Gwaine had the sudden thought that if Lady Magdalen had had magic, he would either be dead or turned into some filthy creature at that moment. "You have done quite enough, Sir Gwaine! Every time you come near Wynifred, you cause her to come to some mischief. Begone, you miscreant! You keep yourself away from my young ladies, especially young Wynifred!"

Wynne saw the fury in his eyes, but she knew that Gwaine was too much of a gentleman to say what he thought of her because she was a lady. His eyes met Wynne's, and they softened slightly as he gave her a look of encouragement. He took another large bite of his apple as he stormed out the door.

Lady Magdalen looked sharply at Wynne, and her eyes narrowed. She noticed the girl's wistful expression as she gazed after the retreating knight. So that was it, she thought. Wynifred was smitten with Sir Gwaine. That was why she always got into such scrapes when he was nearby; she wanted to gain his attention. Well, this had to be nipped in the bud. No young lady in her care was going to seek the attention of a shameless flirt like Sir Gwaine, especially when she acted inappropriately to do so. "Wynifred," she said sternly. "Get yourself to your chamber and change your clothes. Then fill a tub with hot water and wash your dress. When you've hung your dress to dry, come see me, and we will discuss your punishment."

Wynne's eyes widened in fear. Lady Magdalen usually doled out punishment right away. What did it mean that this time she was sending Wynne to complete a task first? She replied meekly, "Yes, Lady." After a final hug from Berte, she quickly exited the kitchen.

Just as she walked through the doorway, she turned and caught a sympathetic glance from Berte. As she squished down the corridor, still trailing moat water, she overheard Lady Magdalen chastising Berte, "I do wish you wouldn't coddle Wynifred. You do that child no favors by giving her sympathy when she brings shame to herself with her antics." Wynne sighed miserably, realizing that she had gotten both Gwaine and Berte, her two favorite people in Camelot, into trouble by her impulsive, unladylike behavior. Would she never learn how to behave, she wondered.


	2. Chapter 2

Wynne had just finished gathering herbs and mosses for Gaius and was headed back to the castle, feeling rather pleased with herself. This was the first time she'd been trusted to complete this errand without Merlin by her side, and she had collected all the plants Gaius needed in less than an hour without even having to look at the descriptions he'd sent along. Still, as she strolled through the woods, she found herself wishing Merlin was with her; he was proving to be a close friend and confidante. He seemed to understand her distaste for the lessons in finery that she was forced to endure. Indeed, at times when the young king was treating Merlin like a clotpole (which, admittedly, was most of the time), she saw a faraway look in his eyes as though he too wished he were elsewhere. Today, however, Merlin had had other business to attend to, so Gaius had sent her out by herself. As she looked into the basket, Wynne smiled to herself, thinking that she might be a failure with a needle and thread and unbearably clumsy on her feet during dance lessons, but when it came to identifying plants and herbs and knowing when to use them, Wynne was far ahead of the other girls. She smiled again as she recalled the reason she had been sent out on an errand for Gaius in the first place—she had once again displeased Lady Magdalen by making a tangled mess of her needlework. Going into the forest to collect herbs was a distasteful punishment for the other girls, but not for Wynne, and she hoped Lady Magdalen never figured out that these errands were more prize than punishment, and that she sometimes deliberately did something wrong so she would be sent to Gaius, or even to Berte in the kitchens.

Because she had completed her task so quickly, Wynne idled about in the forest, preferring the squawking birds and rustling of small animals to the incessant chatter of the other girls about their dresses, their jewels and which knight or squire they fancied this week. She sighed, thinking how unlike the other girls she was. She couldn't care less about having another gown of silk and satin or necklaces of precious stones, nor was she particular about how she wore her hair; a simple braid to keep her unruly brown curls out of her eyes was good enough. The thought of brown hair suddenly brought Gwaine to her mind, and a blush crept into her cheeks as she thought of him. Giggling aloud, she said to herself, maybe I have something in common with the other girls after all. Not that she'd told anyone, not even Merlin, how she adored Gwaine—his beautiful shoulder-length chestnut hair, vibrant brown eyes that flashed when he was angry and sparkled when he was happy, a smile that could stop her in her tracks even from afar. Thankfully, none of the other girls had set her sights on the newcomer knight; she couldn't have borne it if she'd have to hear Lavinia or Bronwyn whispering about how handsome he was or plotting in hushed tones behind Lady Magdalen's back about how they might accidentally bump into him in the marketplace or within the castle.

Lost in thought, Wynne didn't notice the trees thinning until she heard the steady clang of metal on metal and the shouts of young men. Glancing around quickly, she realized she had strayed off the path that led around to the kitchens and had come around to the rear courtyard where the squires were practicing their sword fighting. Wynne recognized the voice of her cousin Boris and some of his close friends. Not wanting them to see her and make sport of her again, she was about to turn and follow the path back to the kitchens when she heard Gwaine's voice call out, "Reginald, if you hold your sword that way in battle, you'll get your head cut off."

Unable to resist catching a glimpse of Gwaine, Wynne set down her basket and crept over to an opening in the trees to peer out. The afternoon sun was hot, and she noticed that many of the knights and squires had removed their shirts, or at least unlaced them. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she caught sight of Gwaine, shirtless, showing Reginald how to hold his sword properly. She had seen her father and brothers without shirts before, but nothing had prepared her for this! Gwaine's muscles rippled as he raised the sword and showed Reginald how to bring it down in an attack. Sweat glistened on his skin in the sunlight, and she could see his chest heaving as he breathed. Sir Elyan said something to him, and he laughed, tossing his long hair out of his face. Oh, he's so handsome, Wynne thought as she sighed and closed her eyes in a daydream.

_An evil knight had captured Wynne and carried her off. Gwaine alone had seen the abduction and was in hot pursuit, riding faster than any knight had ever ridden. He soon overtook the knight and made him stop. The evil knight dismounted. Still holding Wynne tightly around the waist, he yanked her roughly off the horse and held her in front of him like a shield._

_Gwaine quickly dismounted, sword drawn, and challenged the knight. The evil knight drew back his lips in a wicked sneer. "To the death," he hissed._

_"As you wish," Gwaine replied, smiling humorlessly and lunging towards the knight._

_The evil knight shoved Wynne to the ground; sobbing fearfully, she scrambled behind a rock. She heard swords clashing and shouts of pain as the battle raged. Finally there was the sickening sound of blade meeting flesh, followed by a deathly groan._

_Wynne cowered behind the rock, afraid to look to see who had won. A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she jumped, ready to fight. Instead of the evil knight's sneer, she came face to face with Gwaine, who grinned triumphantly down at her. "Come, lass. Let's ride for Camelot."_

_Wynne joyfully threw herself into Gwaine's arms, and he lifted her onto his horse. Swinging up behind her, he gazed down at her adoringly. His brown eyes shone warmly as he said, "Wynne, my love…" He leaned down, and their lips met in a sweet, tender kiss._

Wynne was so lost in her daydream that she leaned forward too heavily on the branch that was supporting her and lost her balance, falling flat on her face. Sir Leon and Sir Percival stood closest to the tree line, so they heard Wynne crash into the underbrush. "Is someone there?" Sir Leon called, drawing his sword and starting for the trees, followed by Sir Percival. Wynne tried to scramble to her feet to escape into the cover of the trees, but her braid snagged on a branch. Before she could yank it loose and flee, two pairs of booted feet burst through the underbrush and stopped in front of her. She looked up to see Sir Leon and Sir Percival standing over her. Seeing Wynne cowering on the ground, red-faced at being caught, the two knights looked at each other and sheathed their swords, unable to hide their smirks. Sir Percival glanced over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and called out, "It appears we have ourselves a spy."

Sir Leon laughed good-naturedly and responded, "I believe you're right. There's only one thing to do with spies" They both stepped forward and grabbed her arms to pull her to her feet. She struggled to get away, knowing they would make sport of her just as they had done when Willetta was caught snooping around the knights' quarters one night. As they hauled her out into the courtyard, he continued, "It was only a matter of time before another one of our ladies-in-training paid us a visit."

Wynne kept her head lowered, but raised her eyes to look around at the knights and squires in front of her. Boris leaned on his sword and stared at her disdainfully, shaking his head. Reginald and two other squires stood with him, also glaring at her disapprovingly. Several of the younger squires looked between Wynne and the knights, waiting excitedly to see what would happen to her. Sir Elyan stood with his arms crossed, staring sternly at her. Last of all, she slid her gaze over to Gwaine, silently praying he wasn't angry. Like Sir Elyan, he had his arms crossed over his chest. She swallowed hard as she watched glistening beads of sweat slide slowly down the rippling muscles of his arms. Wynne's eyes snapped upwards as Gwaine tossed his head, flipping his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. His expression was stern, but his dark eyes danced with mischief as he and Sir Leon exchanged a look. The slightest of smiles twitched on his lips as he said, "I would have expected one of the other young ladies to come spying, but not Wynifred." Why did he use my proper name, Wynne wondered. Maybe he really was angry. He caught her eye and teased, "I thought you and Merlin were fast friends. Are you trying to make him jealous, then?"

Wynne opened her mouth to protest, but then faltered. What reason could she give for being there that would neither confirm Gwaine's erroneous suggestion nor reveal her true motive?

Whether intending to rescue his cousin or merely wanting to make jest of her, Boris called out, "Wynne isn't even interested in boys. She just wants to watch the sword fights." Wynne caught Boris' eye and shook her head at him. He smirked at her, obviously recalling the last time he had crossed swords with her. "She fancies herself more of a swordswoman than a lady; that's why Uncle Gerald had to send her here."

Several squires laughed. The very idea of a girl wielding a sword! Reginald picked up his sword and waved it at Wynne. "Stand and fight!" he jeered.

Wynne felt her face growing red. Although Boris' words were true, she had never meant for anyone else at Camelot to discover that she would rather train with the knights than become a lady. She cringed as she imagined Lady Magdalen's scandalized expression if she were caught with a sword again. Gwaine's expression was a combination of mischief and kindness as he regarded her, obviously also recalling her last spar with Boris. Looking quickly between Wynne and Reginald, he picked up his sword and walked purposefully towards her. Wynne's eyes widened in panic as he handed her the sword. "Come, lass," he called out brightly. "Come here and show Reginald how it's done. He fights like a girl, so 'twould be an equal match."

Sir Percival choked a laugh into a cough and turned away for a moment. Wynne wasn't sure if he was laughing at her or at Reginald, who was himself looking a bit red-faced at Gwaine's jest.

"Gwaine, do you think that's wise?" Sir Leon asked seriously, but unable to hide a smile.

Gwaine joked, "Wisdom isn't one of my strong points, Leon." Seeing Wynne's expression turn from embarrassment to fear, he added, "The blades are dulled; the lass won't lose any appendages." More kindly, he urged, "Come, lass. Don't be afraid. I'll help you."

As Wynne reached tentatively for Gwaine's sword, Reginald took a step forward and huffed, "That's not fair, two against one!" His beady blue eyes glared more at Wynne than at Gwaine. Wynne sized him up; he was a good four inches taller than she and a great deal stronger. That, and he wasn't likely to give her any leeway as her cousin might.

Sir Elyan laughed and called out, "There's only one sword, Reginald, and Gwaine will only step in to help her. Besides, you've had six months of training."

"Not that it shows," muttered a short, blond-haired squire sitting on the ground by the spare shields and gnawing an apple.

Somewhat encouraged by the jabs at Reginald, Wynne glanced up at Gwaine before taking his sword from him. When he caught her eye and winked, her mouth went dry, and her stomach flip-flopped the way it had the day Father's horse ran away with her on its back. She was surprised by the weight of this sword; it was much heavier than the wooden swords she and her brothers had sparred with at home, and heavier even than the tin swords she and Boris used.

Reginald took a step towards Wynne, a look of mixed anger and hurt pride on his face as he raised his sword. Wynne swallowed hard and raised her sword with some difficulty. Reginald noticed her struggle and grinned maliciously; she knew he thought this would be an easy fight. Wynne felt everyone's eyes upon her as she stepped away from Gwaine and prepared to spar. They stood regarding each other for a moment before Sir Elyan hesitantly called out, "Fight!"

Wynne barely got her sword up in time to deflect Reginald's first strike. She gasped as the blow jarred her whole body; this was much different than fighting with play swords. Reginald struck twice more, almost knocking the sword from her hands. As he raised his sword again, Wynne turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut as she braced for his blow.

"Come on, Wynne," Boris yelled critically. "You're not even trying!"

"Keep your eyes on your opponent, Wynne," Sir Percival advised, circling the two fighters.

Sir Leon motioned to Wynne and encouraged, "Get your sword up and attack."

Gwaine suddenly came up behind Wynne and placed his hands over hers to help her raise the sword. He helped her bring her arms up to strike and said low in her ear, "As Percival said, keep your eyes on your opponent. Watch for weaknesses and attack there."

Wynne hardly heard Gwaine's words; she was focused on his hands covering hers and on the closeness of his body. When Gwaine stepped back, Wynne almost looked back at him for encouragement. Just in time, she recalled that Gwaine and Percival had just instructed her not to look away from Reginald. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to prove herself, Wynne made a great effort and brought her sword up to strike Reginald. Cheers went up all around her as she made her first offensive hit. "You fight like a girl," Reginald mocked, raising his sword to strike again.

"I _am_ a girl," Wynne replied angrily, successfully blocking his blow.

As the two crossed swords, Reginald brought his face close to Wynne's and hissed, "Not much of one."

A lump rose in Wynne's throat at his words as she struggled with herself. True, she did prefer being outside and rough-housing with the boys over learning how to sew dresses, take her meals daintily and manage the affairs of a household. But that didn't mean she didn't have the desire to be thought of as feminine and attractive, especially in Gwaine's eyes. His hurtful remark made her even more determined to thrash him, so she redoubled her efforts and made more strikes. She quickly figured out how to use the sword's weight to her advantage, building up momentum with each swing and focusing her strength and balance on aiming her blows.

For several minutes, she and Reginald danced around each other. The metal clang of swords rang in Wynne's ears, and sweat trickled down her face and into her eyes, making her blink quickly. Her neat braid had come undone, and loose curls stuck to her sweaty face. Her arms began to ache, and it became harder to lift the sword. This duel had to end, she thought, but she didn't want to give in.

Reginald knew his opponent was tiring. She was just a girl, after all, and she was unused to the hard labor and training a squire had to endure. He began doing fancy moves and feints with his sword, as he had seen some of the more experienced knights do. He knew that a couple more blows would likely cause her to drop her sword, so he thought he would try a difficult move that would impress both the other squires and the knights, as well as defeat this bold little wench. He raised his sword as if to strike, but instead of bringing it down immediately, he spun around, bringing the sword high above his head.

Wynne watched Reginald's sword rise, but she was taken aback as he began to pivot—what was he doing? Gwaine's advice came to her mind—watch for weaknesses and attack there. Reginald's arms were above his head, and he was facing away from her. It only took a split second for her to bring her sword up with a grunt and aim for his exposed ribcage. A sickening thud told Wynne she had hit her mark. Reginald cried out in pain, dropping his sword and falling to the ground. As he lay groaning and gripping his side, Wynne stepped over to him and pointed her sword at his chest. Her eyes flashed fire as she hissed, "I may fight like a girl, but I just bested you, Reginald."

Cheers and whoops rose up as the others applauded her victory. Sir Elyan's concerned frown was replaced by a wide grin as he clapped his hands proudly. The younger squires cheered for Wynne and jeered at Reginald, who lay on the ground glaring up at Wynne. Sir Leon and Sir Percival congratulated her, and even Boris grudgingly nodded his approval in her direction. Suddenly, Wynne gasped as a laughing Gwaine caught her up in a bear hug and spun around and around with her. "You did it, lass! You did yourself proud!"

Startled and surprised by Gwaine's actions, Wynne's arms went around his neck, and she found her face level with his. Her breath caught as she gazed at him; she had never been, had never dreamed she'd really be this close to him. His deep brown eyes gleamed with pride over her accomplishment, and his smile was so bright it almost blinded her. His lips, framed by his short brown beard, looked so soft and inviting, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. His warm breath on her face as he laughed made her dizzy with longing, and she finally understood what so many of the older girls meant when they said their suitors made them feel as though they'd drunk too much mead.

Sir Leon's voice broke into her reverie. "Gwaine, put the poor girl down! She's a young lady, not a sack of barley!"

Gwaine abruptly stopped spinning and set Wynne on her feet, apologizing for his roughness. "Your prowess with the sword made me forget you're a young lady," he said, taking her hand and bowing gallantly to her.

Wynne stumbled, taken aback by his words. He had forgotten she was a young lady? But she wanted Gwaine to see her as a young lady, as someone he'd want to court when she came of age a little more than a year hence. She stared into his beautiful brown eyes and saw kindness, but naught else, no indication that he found her attractive…oh. She looked down at her dress, which was now streaked with dust and sweat. She put her hand to her forehead, which was now hot and sticky with perspiration. Her curly hair had come unbraided, and tendrils stuck to her forehead, cheeks and neck. No, she was certain she looked and smelled nothing like a lady.

"I think you've made the poor girl dizzy," Sir Elyan said, clapping Gwaine on the shoulder. Knowing how Lady Magdalen felt about Gwaine, he teased, "I don't think Lady Magdalen would approve of you being so rough with one of her charges."

"Oh, my goodness, Lady Magdalen!" Wynne exclaimed. She had completely forgotten why she had been out in the woods instead of inside with the other young ladies. Lady Magdalen was likely wondering what was taking Wynne so long. She rushed back into the trees to claim her basket of herbs and hurried back along the path that led back to the kitchens. She could hear the cheerful banter of the men as they returned to their training. One voice stood out above the others, and Wynne's heart soared as she heard Gwaine say loudly, "Young Wynne's performance was quite impressive. I'll not forget this afternoon for a long time."

Back inside, Gaius looked up in surprise as Wynne burst into his room and set the basket down on his work table. His sharp eyes took in the flustered expression on Wynne's sweaty face, her dirty, sweat-streaked dress, and her tangled, unbraided hair, and he asked with concern, "Is everything all right, Wynne? You look as though you were running from the devil himself."

Still breathing heavily, Wynne replied, "No, Gaius, everything is fine, truly. I just…took longer than I expected, and I was afraid Lady Magdalen would be upset, so I ran back here." Glancing quickly at the basket, she asked, "Did I find everything you needed?"

Still regarding Wynne with concern, Gaius reached for the basket and sorted through the assortment of plants and mosses. He knew the girl wasn't being completely honest, but he saw that she had collected everything on his list, and without Merlin's assistance. He smiled at her and said approvingly, "Well done, Wynne. You are indeed a quick learner. I will have to inform Lady Magdalen that you are more than ready to begin learning how to prepare simple medicinal teas and poultices."

Wynne beamed at this unexpected praise. As she rushed to her room to wash up, change into a clean dress and fix her hair for dinner, she thought to herself, this day was turning out to be a good one-high praise from Gaius _and_ defeating the annoying Reginald in a sword fight. Now if only she could get through dinner in the Great Hall this evening without spilling something or otherwise causing a scene, she might actually go to sleep happy tonight.

As she donned the dark blue gown that had once been her mother's, she became aware of an unexpected consequence of the afternoon's activity. The muscles in her arms and shoulders ached so badly that she could hardly lift them above her head to put on her dress; there was no way she would be able to re-braid her hair. Sighing, she resigned herself to the fact that she'd have to wear her hair down. Quickly grabbing a ribbon from one of her other dresses, she pulled her wild curls forward over one shoulder and criss-crossed the white ribbon down her hair and tied it into a bow at the bottom. Finally, she plucked a yellow daisy from the bouquet she'd gathered yesterday and tucked it behind her ear. Just before she dashed out of her room to join the others in the Great Hall, she stopped in front of her mirror to check her appearance. Her breath caught as she realized for the first time how much she resembled her mother. At least in her appearance, though not in her behavior. Taking a deep breath to ward off the tears that had sprung into her eyes, she stood as tall as her aching shoulders would allow and slowly descended the stairs.

The other young ladies were already in the Great Hall when she entered, as were the knights, squires, Gaius and Merlin. Thankfully, she had arrived before King Arthur and Queen Guinevere; Lady Magdalen lectured every day that it would be scandalous to come into the Great Hall after the king and queen made their entrance. Lady Magdalen turned to chastise her for almost being late, but then stopped and took in Wynne's appearance. Then Wynne saw something she never thought she'd see—Lady Magdalen smiled at her ever so slightly.

Wynne was so taken aback and pleased by Lady Magdalen's unspoken praise that she failed to notice every one of the knights and squires also gazing at her appreciatively, but none more so than Gwaine, who for once had stopped his incessant chattering to lean forward on his fist and stare wordlessly at the young girl who only this afternoon had defeated one of the older squires, but who now looked like the young lady he realized she was.


	3. Chapter 3, An Unfortunate Feast

Alas, that was not to be for Wynne. She didn't even make it to the main course before she was in trouble once more. The servants had brought in trays of fruits and vegetables, platters of freshly-baked breads and tureens of soup. Everything was delicious, but Wynne, being more tired than hungry, only picked at the offerings. This seemed to please Lady Magdalen, who tried to impress upon her charges that a proper lady had a dainty appetite and ate little in the presence of others, especially eligible gentlemen. Although she didn't say so aloud, Wynne thought that was silly, and she always ate her fill, much to Lady Magdalen's displeasure.

After sampling a few strawberries and a handful of grapes and spooning up a few bites of her soup, Wynne sat half-heatedly listening to the conversations of the other young ladies around her. She wasn't seated near Anora, her one friend among the ladies, so she had no one to talk to. As usual, Lavinia and Bronwyn, who sat closest to Wynne, discussed the dresses the various ladies were wearing this evening, and Lady Magdalen sat at the head of the table chatting with Lady Gertrude, who was visiting her daughter Caitlyn at Camelot.

After listening to Lavinia and Bronwyn go on for twenty minutes about the queen's newest gown, Wynne rolled her eyes and turned her attention across the room to the knights' tables. As always, they seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Gwaine was in his usual form, having recovered from his surprise at seeing Wynne dressed so beautifully with her hair in an attractive feminine style. He was animatedly telling a story while the squires listened with rapt expressions. Percival and Elyan exchanged occasional smirks behind Gwaine's back, and Wynne fervently wished she were there listening to him instead of at the ladies' table. Unable to hide her boredom, Wynne entertained herself by watching Gwaine's lips and trying to make out what he said.

The Great Hall was quite warm, and Wynne soon found her eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Glancing over quickly to be sure Lady Magdalen was still engrossed in conversation, she laid her napkin aside, leaned her elbow on the table, and propped her chin on her hand to close her eyes for just a moment before the main course came in. Before Wynne knew it, she was lulled to sleep by the pleasant sounds around her. She slumped forward heavily on her arm, and her long hair toppled off her shoulder and landed with a plop into her unfinished soup. Her mouth drooped open slightly, and soft snores could be heard.

Anora, at the other end of the table, noticed Wynne's predicament, but was too far away to do anything without calling unwanted attention to her friend. To Wynne's misfortune, Bronwyn's sister Bernice noticed the direction of Anora's gaze and saw what had happened. She began giggling and nudged Rosalynde. Rosalynde looked and then clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud and leaned over to whisper to Caitlyn, "Look at Wynifrog."

Caitlyn's eyes drifted across the table to Wynne, and she quickly covered her mouth with her napkin. After making sure her mother wasn't looking, she motioned to Lavinia and Bronwyn, who also began laughing at Wynne's predicament. Lavinia began stuffing blueberries in Wynne's mouth to see how many would fit. Soon all the young ladies, save Anora, were either giggling at Wynne or urging Lavinia to balance another blueberry in Wynne's mouth.

Suddenly, Lady Gertrude noticed Wynne asleep with her hair in her soup and blueberries drooling out of her mouth. She gasped aloud, a scandalized expression on her face, and Lady Magdalen followed her gaze across the table to Wynne. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes bugged at the scene just a few seats away. Of course, all the other ladies feigned innocence, acting as though they hadn't noticed. Lady Magdalen brought her hand down hard on the table, rattling all the dishes, and snapped, "Wynifred!"

Startled awake, Wynne jumped, and her arm came down on the table, upending her soup bowl and knocking over her goblet. She spat countless blueberries out of her mouth, wondering how they got there, since she despised them. Lavinia and Priscilla, on either side of Wynne, squealed and tried, too late, to shove their chairs out of the way; the three of them ended up covered in wine and soup.

"Oh dear!" Lady Gertrude exclaimed, getting up quickly and motioning to a servant. As she and Lady Magdalen began dabbing at the spills with their napkins, she asked, "My goodness, Magdalen, are feasts at Camelot always so…eventful?"

"When young Wynifred is present," Lady Magdalen said icily, "anything is….oh my!" Lady Magdalen's comment was interrupted as she looked across at the knights' table and saw Gwaine and Percival scuffling angrily. Lucky for Wynne, at that moment every eye in the Great Hall was on the two knights who seemed to be engaged in a fight to the death.

Suddenly, Arthur crossed the room and with the help of Leon and Elyan forcibly separated them. "Enough!" he shouted, causing silence to descend on the hall. "Both of you into the Council Chamber, now!"

As Gwaine and Percival left the Great Hall, still glaring at each other, Wynne stood holding a sopping wet napkin, her mouth agape as she watched the two knights leave the room, followed by a furious Arthur.

"Wynifred!" Lady Magdalen snapped for the second time. "Attend to your mishap and stop gawking at those ruffians!" A servant gave her an apologetic smile as she took the wet napkin from her and handed her a dry cloth. Wynne and the servant wiped up the rest of the spill as Lavinia and Priscilla stood by looking devastated at the stains on their favorite gowns. As Lady Gertrude dabbed and fussed a over their gowns, Lady Magdalen gave them a look of sympathy before turning to Wynne again. "Wynifred, you are the most exasperating, disaster-prone young lady I have ever had under my tutelage. I won't even ask what you thought you were doing." Wynne was glad of that, because she had no idea what had happened. "Before you go to bed tonight, you will launder not only your gown, but also the tablecloths and Lavinia and Priscilla's gowns as well. Now go to your chamber and wait till I send for you."

By the devious look Lavinia and Priscilla exchanged, she knew they were behind whatever had just occurred. She said nothing, but glowered at them, wishing she could slap their faces. At that moment thought the satisfaction she would feel from doing so would almost be worth the extra trouble she would be in, but she restrained herself.

Meanwhile, in the Council Chamber, Gwaine and Percival stood at attention, casting angry sidelong glances at one another, as Arthur paced back and forth in front of them trying to reel in his temper before he addressed them. Finally he stopped and turned to face them. Two defiant splotches of red high on Gwaine's cheeks and the bemused hurt on Percival's face told Arthur that Gwaine was likely the one who had started the scuffle, but being a fair ruler, he would not pass judgment till he heard what each had to say. Holding his voice steady with some difficulty, he asked, "Would you two care to tell me what that display was all about?"

"Gwaine started it," Percival blamed sulkily, turning to glare at his friend.

Gwaine shot him a guilt-laden scowl, and Arthur looked pointedly at him and asked, "Would you care to respond to that?"

Pursing his lips and looking down at the floor for a moment, Gwaine glanced apologetically at Percival. He hated apologizing, even when he was wrong, as he knew he was now. "Percival is correct. I started it. I…apologize, Percival."

Percival gave the smaller knight an irritated shove that Gwaine knew was an acceptance of his apology. Still, he wanted an explanation. "What were you thinking, you clot-pole?"

Gwaine raised his chin proudly, although the deepening red patches on his cheeks told the other two men that he was embarrassed at his reason. Trying to smirk unabashedly, he replied, "I was protecting a lady's honor."

Arthur crossed his arms in front of him, and his lips twitched with amusement as he glanced at Percival, who had recovered from his hurt and was also trying not to laugh. "Were you protecting her from Percival?" Arthur joked. That was too much; he and Percival burst out laughing.

The smirk disappeared from Gwaine's face, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. He didn't want to tell them what he had witnessed at the ladies' table, although he was certain all of Camelot would hear of it by morning. The muscle in his jaw tightened, and he ground out simply, "No."

Some of Arthur's amusement faded; he wanted an answer. "Then would you mind telling us…" Understanding dawned on his face, and he looked at Percival and chuckled, "What did Wynifred do this time? It must have been quite the mishap for you to create a diversion to draw attention away from her."

Percival laughed good-naturedly and joked, "You can dress her up, but you can't take her out." He wasn't saying that to be mean. He was fond of her,a s were all the knights, but he couldn't help being amused by her misadventures and by the way Gwaine always seemed to be the one who came to her rescue. Gwaine raised a fist and made a lunge at Percival, who stepped back and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm only kidding, Gwaine! Take it easy."

Arthur took a step towards Gwaine and laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Looking at Percival, he said softly, "Percival, you are dismissed. You may return to the feast." Percival gave Arthur a hasty bow before he clapped Gwaine on the back and headed towards the Great Hall, still chuckling. Despite Percival's obvious amusement, Gwaine knew that he would say nothing about Wynne's predicament to the others. Arthur watched the other knight leave before turning to Gwaine and joking, "Gwaine, Gwaine, Gwaine. What am I going to do with you?" When Gwaine's eyes met his, he continued, "You don't have to tell me what happened with Wynne, but you do know I cannot have one of my most trusted knights starting a rumble during a feast, especially when we have guests present. Couldn't you have broken out in song instead?"

Gwaine's mouth twitched; at least he knew Arthur wasn't angry. Still, he knew he would face consequences for his actions. He swallowed hard and apologized for the second time that evening. Forgive me, Sire. It was the first thing that came to mind, and I knew I didn't have much time to react before everyone's attention was drawn to her. Again."

Arthur chuckled at the hot-headed impulsiveness that often got his friend in as much trouble as Wynne's clumsy impulsiveness did her. "As much as I admire your chivalry, Gwaine, your judgment leaves something to be desired. You can help Merlin polish boots and armor after the feast tonight."

Gwaine's lip curled distastefully. This wasn't the first time he had been relegated to that task. Still, he knew he was getting off easy, so he bowed curtly and replied, "Yes, Sire. Thank you."

"You may return to the feast if you choose. I'm sure the main course has arrived by now," Arthur said, starting back towards the Great Hall.

Returning to the feast was the last thing Gwaine felt like doing, but he wanted to see if Wynne was still there and if she was all right. He turned on his heel and followed Arthur out of the Council CHamber, putting on his typical carefree, self-assured expression just before they went through the door. However, he didn't wear that expression for long when he noticed that the rest of the young ladies were seated at their table as though nothing had happened, but Wynne was nowhere to be seen.

Late that night, the rest of the castle was quiet, but Wynne was in the kitchen hunched over a tub of hot water and strong soap, scrubbing the stains out of the gowns and tablecoths. In what Wynne felt was an act of pure unfairness, Lady Magdalen had decided that because Wynne had made her look bad in front of Lady Gertrude, she would launder not only the cloth from the ladies' table, but all the tablecloths from the feast. She had at least heard from ANora what had happened, and loyal Anora had stood at Wynne's side to protest the unfairness of her punishment, until Lady Magdalen had warned her of the consequences for insolence. Not wanting her friend to suffer too, Wynne had meekly accepted her punishment. Now, as her arms and back ached from scrubbing and her hands burned from the harsh soap, the memory of her friend's loyalty was all that kept her from crying.

It was past midnight when she finished scrubbing the last tablecloth and hung it to dry. The last task she had to do was to get the heavy washtub out the back door and empty the dirty water. Knowing she wouldn't be able to carry it out the door, she went to one side, grabbed the handle and tried to drag the tub across the floor. Even though she was strong for her size, she could barely budge it. Just as she decided to begin the task of emptying the tub bucket by bucket, she heard footsteps coming down the passageway towards the kitchen. Thinking it might be Lady Magdalen coming to check on her progress, she squared her shoulders and prepared for whatever she might have to say. When she heard Merlin's cheerful voice, she relaxed. He wasn't likely to be walking the halls with Lady Magdalen.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and there in the lamplight, three sets of eyes exchanged surprised looks as Merlin enteredt he kitchen followed by Gwaine. Wynne's mouth formed an "O," and her face reddened as she realized what a sight she was in her oldest, shabbiest dress which was all but soaked down the front, her straggling hair tied back with a kerchief, and her hands wrinkly and red from being in the water for the past couple hours.

Gwaine's sharp eyes took in the scene, and his eyebrows came together severely as he asked, "What are you doing? Why aren't you in bed?"

Ashamed to tell him what had happened, Wynne bit her lip for a moment before countering, "I might ask you the same thing."

Merlin laughed out loud and glanced sideways at Gwaine, saying jovially, "Yes, Gwaine. Tell Wynne why you aren't in bed."

Gwaine tried to glare at his friend, but ended up laughing too. With a gleam in his eye, he replied, "The princess sentenced me to polishing duty for livening up a boring feast."

He and Merlin laughed merrily, but Wynne didn't find it funny. To her, it had looked as though he and Percival had really wanted to hurt each other. Tired and upset that what had promised to be a wonderful day had ended so badly, Wynne stamped her foot and snapped, "It's not funny, Gwaine! Obviously you deserved your punishment, not like…" SHe stopped suddenly, realizing she had said more than she intended.

Both men ceased laughing abruptly and stared at her. "Oh, Wynne. This was a punishment?" Merlin asked in his soft, sweet voice. The kindness and sympathy she saw in his eyes brought tears to hers, and she hung her head so they wouldn't see them fall. First Merlin and then Gwaine crossed the room; Merlin gathered her into his arms and looked helplessly at Gwaine, whose expression suggested he'd like to go upstairs, haul Lady Magdalen down to the kitchen, and soak her head in Wynne's wash water.

Gwaine laid a hand on WYnne's back, and she drew back from Merlin to look up at the knight. His dark eyes softened, and he smiled sweetly at her as he joked, "And here I thought my plan had succeeded."

Wynne sniffled and looked up at him curiously. "What plan?"

He laughed and replied, "I noticed you were about to be the center of unwanted attention again, so I…" He glanced at Merlin, and his face broke into a wide grin. "…I created a diversion."

Wynne simultaneously felt a rush of gratitude at Gwaine's actions and a flood of mortification that he had seen her sitting with her blueberry-filled mouth hanging open and her hair floating in her soup. "Oh…" she muttered, lowering her head in shame.

Gwaine laughed indulgently and gathered her into a warm hug. He laid his head against hers and planted a brief, brotherly kiss into her hair before teasing, "You're the only lass I know who can get into trouble while you're fast asleep."

Merlin crossed his arms and watched the two friends, laughing both at Wynne's penchant for getting herself into trouble and at Gwaine's easygoing acceptance of Wynne's unladylike behavior. When Wynne drew back and gazed up at Gwaine, Merlin raised an eyebrow, noticing for the first time the way her eyes sparkled and her cheeks blushed pink when she looked at him. Wynne was smitten with Gwaine, if not more. He raised his eyes to Gwaine's to see if his friend felt the same way about her. There was certainly fondness in his eyes, although all the knights felt so about Wynne. Gwaine's eyes didn't betray anything resembling blossoming love, but his actions tonight certainly suggested the possibility.

Gwaine suddenly noticed Merlin staring at him with that strange expression that he often got. Thinking he was still concerned over Wynne's punishment, he said, "Well, I think this young lady has been punished more than enough, don't you?" When Merlin started and then nodded his agreement, Gwaine looked down at Wynne and said, "You go on up to bed, lass. Merlin and I will take care of this heavy tub." He smiled and winked, before bending down to pick up the tub with a grunt.

Wynne gazed after him as he stumbled to the back door with the heavy washtub. A small sigh involuntarily escaped her, and she heard Merlin chuckle. Her head snapped over to look at him, and she saw in his eyes that he knew her secret. Her eyes glassed over with panic as she tried to think of something to say. Merlin glanced up at Gwaine before he whispered, "How long have you felt this way about Gwaine?"

Wynne's eyes looked at her feet. She knew it was no use denying it. "Since I first laid eyes on him," she admitted in a whisper. Glancing up at him desperately, she whispered urgently, "You won't tell him, will you? Please, Merlin, say you won't tell him."

Merlin looked down at her kindly and replied, "Your secret is safe with me, Wynne. Besides, I know how Lady Magdalen disapproves of him, so I don't want to cause either of you any trouble."

Hearing Gwaine dumping the tub out just outside the door, Wynne hurriedly asked, "Do you think…is there even a chance that he'll ever…see me as a lady and maybe…feel the same?"

Merlin sighed and considered. He was certain she knew Gwaine's reputation with the ladies, so it was possible that someday he would see her as more than a clumsy young girl. Still, he didn't want to give her false hopes that he might fall in love with her as he knew she desired. He just laughed and replied, "He is definitely fond of you, Wynne, but who knows with him? I think any woman would come third to ale and apple pie."

Wynne just giggled. She knew what Gwaine was like, but she was certain,a s all young girls are, that if he would just look her way and see how she loved him, then he would change. She just hoped another young lady didn't come along and capture his heart before she had her chance.


	4. Chap 4: Apple Pies, and Secret Admirers

Even though she'd not had nearly enough sleep, the next day promised to be much more pleasant for Wynne, as Lady Magdalen decided it was time for the young ladies to spend some time in the kitchens. "Some of you may be fortunate enough to have at your disposal enough servants that you will not have to trouble yourselves with food preparation, but you must still learn some basic cooking skills."

This should be the easiest part of my training, Wynne thought to herself. While her father had employed a sufficient kitchen staff, Wynne had often spent time in the kitchens helping the cooks prepare meals. She found it soothing to peel carrots and potatoes, and she enjoyed experimenting with different herbs and spices to see what new flavors she could create. Truth be told, she could cook almost as well as her father's head cook Deirdre, and even better than her mother. She was certain she would enjoy her lessons this day. However, a few of the young ladies from more privileged houses cast a dark cloud over it as they grumbled and protested at having to do servants' work. "Who wants to get all sweaty slaving over hot ovens all day?" Lavinia protested, fanning herself vigorously at the prospect.

"Ugh, I hope I don't have to chop onions," Rosalynde said with an unladylike grimace, wiping her hands on her dress. "My hands will smell of them for days."

Bronwyn let out a shrill yelp. "Does this mean we'll have to touch _dead chickens_?"

Wynne and Anora rolled their eyes at each other, trying to suppress their giggles, and Wynne consoled insincerely, "No, Bronwyn, of course you won't have to touch dead chickens." When Bronwyn sighed with relief, Wynne smiled sweetly and continued, "I believe Berte will be preparing fish today."

Bronwyn let out a shrill, horrified shriek and buried her face in Lavinia's shoulder. She couldn't bear looking at fish, dead or alive; she hated their bulging eyes and their gaping, lipless mouths. Wynne and Anora collapsed against each other, laughing, until Lavinia pushed Bronwyn away and leaned towards Wynne with ice in her eyes, hissing, "I'm sure Wyni_frog_ won't mind preparing the fish. She's at home with slimy creatures of the moat, after all."

Wynne narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists as she took a step towards Lavinia. Lady Magdalen clapped her hands and chastised impatiently, "Young ladies, I will have none of this foolishness!" Her eyes lingered on Wynne as though she alone were responsible. "Even if you never have to prepare food yourselves, it is imperative that you learn how to manage the kitchens in your household. The only practical way to do that is to spend time in the kitchens observing the cooks and helping out in any way they ask."

Because Lady Magdalen didn't want to overwhelm Camelot's kitchens with all her young ladies at once, she divided them into groups; she assigned Wynne, Lavinia, Bronwyn, and Priscilla to help with the midday meal and Anora, Rosalynde, Caitlyn, Bernice, and Theresa to help with the evening feast. Wynne was disappointed that she wouldn't be with Anora, but she knew that Berte would keep them all busy enough that she would not have to listen to the others' taunts.

Two hours before the midday meal, Wynne's group left the sunny sewing room and headed down the passageway towards the kitchens. Wynne had hardly been able to concentrate on her embroidery that morning as she looked forward to her time in the kitchens. As soon as the ladies were out of earshot, Lavinia began complaining about Lady Magdalen. "I still don't know why we have to waste our time in a hot, stuffy kitchen, learning to do servants' work," she argued snippily. "If I hire a kitchen staff, I expect them to know how to run a kitchen without my having to teach them."

Bronwyn tossed her head haughtily, making her thick black curls dance around her shoulders. "My sentiments exactly, Lavie," she agreed. "Why, if ever I'd have to step in to instruct my kitchen staff, they would find themselves seeking another position."

Wynne shook her head at their arrogance and was about to add her two cents when Priscilla edged between them and linked her arms with theirs. Lavinia and Bronwyn were the two most dominant in the group of young ladies, and Priscilla, one of the younger ladies, always tried her hardest to ingratiate herself to them. She never hesitated when it came to taunting Wynne, but she was obviously incomfortable with being disrespectful to Lady Magdalen. Looking almost pleadingly between Lavinia and Bronwyn with her large blue eyes, she said apologetically, "Ladies, surely you can understand; if you don't know how a kitchen is to be run, then how do you know how to hire a competent staff?"

Lavinia and Bronwyn turned simultaneously to face her, glaring pitifully at Priscilla's obvious lack of common sense. Wynne almost felt sorry for her as Lavinia sneered, "Isn't that obvious, Priscilla? If the kitchen staff can't cook, you'll know when you taste their cooking." She stuck her nose in the air and shook her head contemptuously.

"B-but wouldn't you want to know they were inept before you hired them?" Priscilla asked sensibly. "How scandalous it would be to serve guests an inedible feast prepared by an incompetent kitchen staff!" Wynne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Although she was certain that even empty-headed Priscilla would know enough to evaluate a cook's skills before allowing her to prepare a feast for guests, she hadn't expected her to think about evaluating a cook before hiring her, and she nodded appreciatively. Maybe Priscilla wasn't so empty-headed after all.

The two older girls were also taken aback by Priscilla's comment, and both stopped dead in their tracks to stare at her in disbelief. Wynne thought that maybe they had realized the wisdom in Priscilla's words, but she was proven wrong when Lavinia spoke. "So you think slaving in the kitchens all morning will be a good thing?" she asked disdainfully. Smirking maliciously in Wynne's direction, she continued, "Really, Priscilla, you're beginning to sound as unladylike as Wynifrog, the Maiden of the Moat. Next you'll be dozing at the table with blueberries drooling out of your mouth."

So it _had_ been Lavinia who was responsible for that, Wynne thought. She felt her face flaming as Bronwyn laughed a bit more loudly than was proper and added, "You'll be known as Priscilla the Pond Princess."

Lavinia snorted her agreement, and both ladies jerked their arms away from Priscilla to walk briskly ahead of her as she lowered her head in embarrassment. Wynne saw the hurt in Priscilla's expression as their eyes met briefly, and she tried to smile encouragingly at her. After all, she was used to their taunts, and Priscilla wasn't. Priscilla almost smiled back, but then caught herself, raised her chin, and turned away in a huff, picking up her skirts to hurry after Lavinia and Bronwyn. When she caught up to them, she glanced back at Wynne and whispered something to the two girls, making them laugh. Wynne sighed and continued walking a few steps behind them.

Once they had gathered in the kitchens, they waited as Berte finished giving orders to a servant girl. Noticing their arrival, she bustled over to them and greeted them in her deep voice. "I bid you ladies a good morning. Lady Magdalen has decided it is time for you to learn the proper running of a kitchen." Lavinia and Bronwyn wrinkled their noses at each other, and Priscilla quickly mimicked their action. "The first order of business," she continued, handing each young lady a kerchief, "is to bind your hair."

Bronwyn held her kerchief away from her body with her thumb and forefinger, behaving as though she were holding a skunk carcass. "_Why_ would I tie _this_ into my hair?" she asked peevishly.

Berte returned her look with disbelief mixed with disgust. "We bind our hair when we cook so our hair doesn't fall into the food we're preparing."

Priscilla nudged Lavinia and said loudly enough for Wynne to hear, "Perhaps Wynifrog should have tied her hair back for last night's feast."

Wynne felt her face grow red as the other three giggled at Pricilla's joke. Berte glanced sharply at Wynne, suddenly realizing why the girl had been scrubbing linens far into the night after last night's feast, but she said nothing.

After the young ladies had tied back their hair, Berte took them on a tour of the kitchens. As she showed them pantries full of flour, sugars, and dried herbs; storage cabinets filled with plates, bowls, and serving dishes; and a side room containing cookware and silverware, she could tell that Wynne was the only one of this group of ladies who had ever seen the inside of a kitchen. She took them into the larder where various smoked meats hung from hooks. Bronwyn whimpered and cowered between Lavinia and Priscilla, and Wynne stifled a giggle as she imagined throwing one of the raw chickens at her just to make her scream. Finally she yanked open a trap door and took the ladies downstairs into the root cellar and the wine cellars. Wynne inhaled deeply, loving the aroma of the stored fruits and vegetables.

As she finished the tour with the wine cellars, Berte led the young ladies back out through the root cellars. As she rounded a corner to where the bins of apples and pears stood, a man in chain mail suddenly stumbled out from between the bins. Berte cried out in fear, throwing hera rms out protectively to shield the young ladies cowered against each other and screamed, except for Wynne, who tried desperately to peer around Berte's girth ot see what was happening. The startled man jumped and dropped several apples onto the floor. "Beg pardon, Berte. I didn't know anyone else was down here." Gwaine! Wynne would know that voice anywhere.

Berte grasped her chest and chastised, "Sir Gwaine, you scalawag! What are you doing down here?"

He bent down to pick up the apples he had dropped. "I was just getting a snack to nibble on during training," he replied, giving Berte a grin that would light a moonless night. Wynne thought she would faint dead away, he was so handsome. She bit her lip to keep from sighing aloud and giving herself away to the others. Turning his attention to the ladies behind Berte, he said, "Ah, I see our young ladies are helping in the kitchens today. Will you be teaching them how to make apple pie? You know its' my favorite."

"Oh, be off with you, you incorrigible rascal!" Berte laughed, wagging her finger at him. "I should give you an onion pie for scaring me half to death."

Gwaine's laughter filled the small room, and he bowed to them and said, "Ladies," before bounding up the ladder.

As Berte followed him up the ladder, Lavinia leaned towards Bronwyn and whispered, "He is such an ill-mannered lout."

"Isn't he, though?" Bronwyn responded, starting up the ladder. She shuddered and continued, low, "I hear he's not even a noble. I don't know why the king would even knight someone like that."

As each of them emerged from the hole in the floor, Gwaine was there to extend a hand to help them. Lavinia and Bronwyn looked down their noses at him and gave him a "Hmph!" before stalking out of the storage room into the kitchen. Priscilla gave him a half-smile and a curtsy before scampering after her friends. Wynne made sure the others weren't watching before smiling broadly at him and saying, "Thank you, SIr Gwaine."

He rewarded her with another blinding grin and replied, "You're welcome, lass," before kissing her hand and winking at her. As he turned to hurry out the door, he leaned towards Berte once more and whispered, "Remember–apple pie!"

Wynne stared after him for a second and sighed contentedly before turning to follow the other ladies. As Berte shut the heavy trap door, she teased, "I suppose you'll be wanting to bake apple pies for dessert?"

Realizing her feeling for Gwaine were written all over her face, Wynne raised her eyes to Berte's, not knowing what to say. First Merlin, and now Berte had noticed her love for the hnadsome dark-haired knight. If the other young ladies ofund out–oh, good heavens! If _Gwaine_ found out–she would be mortified. She had to work harder at concealing her feelings.

Berte assigned each of the ladies to one of her assistants for the lunchtime tasks. Lavinia helped with bread and rolls, Bronwyn and Priscilla helped prepare the venison stew, and Wynne helped with desserts. Soon the kitchen bustled with activity as everyone went about their tasks. As she expertly peeled, cored, and chopped apples, Wynne heard Berte givingi nstructions nad offering corrections.

"Really, Bronwyn, you can hold on to the carrots as you chop them. You won't cut off your fingers if you're careful."

"Priscilla, dear, don't mince the venison. The knights like chunks of meat in their stew."

"Lavinia, you needn't punch the dough quite so hard; you'll make the bread tough."

When she came over to check on Wynne's progress, she found the servant standing back watching Wynne work. When Berte gave her a questioning look, she said apologetically, "I'm sorry, mum. She's so quick and efficient that she needs no help. I'm…learning from her."

She chuckled warmly and pinched Wynne's cheek. "That's my lass. If you weren't noble-born, you'd be taking my place someday." Wynne smiled and sighed, almost wishing she could be a cook–or even a court physician–instead of a lady.

When the midday meal finally arrived, Wynne and the other young ladies helped the servants carry the food into the smaller dining hall. Unlike the others, Wynne had truly enjoyed her morning in the kitchens. There were spots on her dress and streaks of flour in her hair, but she didn't care; she felt she had truly accomplished something, and she grinned from ear to ear as she set the food on the tables.

Wynne and her group ate in the kitchen with the servants, returning to the dining hall every so often to retrieve empty dishes or to refill platters or soup tureens. At last it was time to take the desserts out. In addition to Wynne's apple pies, there were fruit tarts, pears simmered in cinnamon butter, and rich sugar-frosted cakes. Wynne carried apple pies to the knights' table and watched Gwaine's reaction out of the corner of her eye as she set the largest pie right in front of him. His brown eyes widened, and he stopped talking mid-sentence to stare hungrily at the pie. Sir Leon and Sir Elyan on either side of him turned to him in amusement. "Will wonders never cease?" Sir Elyan joked. "I thought nothing existed that would make Gwaine stop talking."

Sir Leon laughed and replied, "Perhaps we should pack a few pies on our next quest."

Wynne stifled a giggle and hurried back to the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to see Gwaine's expression when he took the first bite, but she didn't want to be conspicuous. She was so intent on getting back to the kitchen that she didn't see Berte lean in close to Gwaine and whisper, "Wynne made the apple pies all by herself. Taught my assistant a thing or two as well."

Gwaine smiled broadly as he took a huge slab of pie and sank his teeth into it. "Mmmmm," he hummed delightedly as the flavors danced on his tongue. He quickly finished his slice and cut another. Each bite seemed more delicious than the last, and by the time he finished his second slice, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Sir Leon and Sir Elyan, too, had sampled the pie and found it delightful. They joked back and forth that Wynne was certainly not awkward and clumsy in the kitchen.

As Wynne was returning to the dining hall to finish clearing away dishes, the knights were just leaving to return to training. Gwaine sidled up to Wynne and said, "I hear you made the apple pies." When she nodded breathlessly, he smacked his lips consideringly and continued, "It was…good. Not quite enough sugar, and a bit too much cinnamon." He winked at her and finished, "If you want to keep practicing your baking skills, I'd be willing to taste your efforts."

As Gwaine sauntered out of the dining hall, Wynne stared after him, all but devastated, till Sir Leon stopped beside her. "Pay no mind to him, Wynne. He's just having you on. He all but licked his plate clean after eating half the pie himself."

Sir Elyan added, "Leave it to Gwaine to find a way to get more apple pie. 'I'd be willing to taste your efforts.' What a dollophead!"

They turned to leave the hall, and Wynne's heart soared as she carried dishes into the kitchens. She would gladly bake him an apple pie every day if it made him happy. Maybe someday she could even sit with him as he enjoyed it.


	5. Chapter 5: To Sing Like a Bird

**I do not own Merlin or its characters. Sorry Gwaine doesn't play more a part in this chapter. I was hoping to add more to it, but I need to do a bit of research for the part I didn't add yet. Wanted to get this out there. Please review. :)**

Much to Wynne's frustration, her prowess in the kitchens did not extend to most of her other lessons. She had hoped that demonstrating her abilities in cooking and managing the kitchens would lead Lady Magdalen to look on her with a bit less disapproval for her shortcomings in the other areas of her training, but it actually had the opposite effect. "Wynifred," she had said, exasperated. "The fact that you can excel in something as difficult as preparing food for a meal at Camelot proves that you could excel in all your lessons and be as fine a lady as your Aunt Giselle or your mother, God rest her soul, if you would only apply yourself."

"Yes, Lady Magdalen," Wynne replied demurely, although inside she wanted to fly at her, screaming that she didn't want to be a fine lady. The only thing that compelled her to hold herself together was Lady Magdalen's mention of her mother. Before Aunt Giselle had brought her to Camelot, Wynne had promised her father that she would conduct herself in a way that would make her mother proud. And so Wynne went into her lessons the next week with every intention of honoring her mother's memory. Unfortunately for Wynne, she was simply not destined to be accomplished in much of the art of being a refine lady, as the events of the next week proved.

The first disaster came only a few days after the ladies' lesson in the kitchens, on a day when Lady Magdalen's presence was requested by Queen Guinevere and Berte in order to plan a feast for a visiting delegation from the North Kings. Lady Magdalen gathered her young ladies in the solarium early one morning and announced, "I will be discussing matters of importance with the queen for the next two mornings. Therefore, I have decided it is time for you to learn some of the rudiments of musical accomplishment. It is crucial for a proper lady to be able to entertain guests and her own family even on the coldest, darkest winter nights, and what better way to do that than with music?" She turned to present to them a tall, buxom woman not much older than they were. Her sleek black hair was done up in a chignon, with tiny ringlets dangling around her ears. "This is Lady Retta, and she will be sharing her expertise in the musical arts." To Lady Retta, she said, "I'm sure you will find these young ladies eager both to learn and to please. But if you should have any difficulties," here she turned to give Wynne a stern gaze. "Do not hesitate to send for me."

Wynne crossed her arms in consternation as Lady Retta's eyes curiously drifted her way. Lady Retta looked at Wynne curiously and wondered how so slight a girl might cause her any difficulties, but she simply responded, "I am certain we will all get along just fine."

The first thing Lady Retta did was to line up the young ladies into two rows in front of her. The taller ladies–Lavinia, Caitlyn, Rosalynde, Priscilla and Theresa–stood behind Wynne, Anora, Bronwyn and Bernice. Next, she taught them the proper stance for singing. "Now ladies, stand tall, raise your chin like so, and clasp your hands in front of you."

Wynne thought this "proper stance" was just as silly as many of the other proper things she was expected to do, but she complied and was both rewarded and encouraged by Lady Retta's praise. She smiled slightly to herself and thought that maybe music lessons wouldn't be so bad. Unfortunately, Wynne's good fortune ran out the moment Lady Retta held up her hand to lead them in warm-up scales. Most of the ladies were more or less able to hit something close to the correct notes, but two voices stood out above the rest. Anora's sweet soprano rang true and clear, and every eye turned to her for a moment. Wynne's voice likewise stood out, but for the opposite reason, and soon all eyes were on her. As the voices ascended the scales a second time, one by one the others stopped and just stared at poor Wynne.

Lady Retta likewise stared at Wynne, wondering if this was the reason Lady Magdalen had silently warned her about the girl. Was she truly unable to hit the notes, or was she mocking her instructor and the lesson? She decided to give the girl the benefit of the doubt and said, "Wynne, dear, I will sing the scale, and you sing it after me, all right?"

Wynne nodded, and Lady Retta sang a simple scale. When she finished and held her hand up, Wynne assumed the proper stance and tried to sing the scale, trying not to notice the other ladies, even Anora, cringing at the sound of her voice. As Bronwyn plugged her ears with her fingers and made an exaggerated grimace, Wynne felt her chest tighten, which didn't help her attempts to sing the scales. She simply could not hit the notes Lady Retta wanted her to sing. She could hear the correct notes, and she knew that what came from her throat was not the correct notes, but she couldn't make her voice sing the correct notes.

After fifteen minutes of trying to teach her pupil, Lady Retta stood looking helplessly at Wynne. She had never failed in an attempt to teach a young lady to sing, and she was at a complete loss. Glancing at the other girls who were either snickering at Wynne's lack of ability or refusing to look at her out of sympathy, Lady Retta finally said softly to Wynne, "I believe it would be best if you sat out for the remainder of the lesson."

Wynne wasn't sure if she should be relieved or mortified at being excused from the lesson. Trying to hold her head up high, she marched over to a bench in the corner and looked out the window at the courtyard where Sir Leon and Sir Percival were working with several squires on shooting a bow and arrow. Oh, how I long to be outside with them, Wynne thought to herself. I'm sure I would do much better with a crossbow than with my voice.

Priscilla suddenly hit a sour note as she sang a simple tune, and Wynne's attention was drawn back to the singing lesson. Priscilla stood red-faced, looking apologetically at Lady Retta, who just smiled and said, "Don't be discouraged over a wrong note; making a mistake does not make you a bad singer." Her eyes inadvertently drifted towards Wynne as she continued, "It is a rare person who cannot learn to carry a tune."

Lady Retta's ill-chosen words made Wynne's cheeks burn with shame. As several of the other girls tittered at her comment and Lavinia and Bronwyn whispered behind their hands, Lady Retta's eyes met Wynne's. Wynne held her head high and refused to let her hurt show. After a moment, Lady Retta looked away guiltily and with some difficulty continued the lesson.

After the lesson, Lady Retta dismissed the young ladies for a bit of free time before the midday meal and their lesson in courtly dancing. Wynne was only too glad to escape and all but bolted from her seat to Anora's side. Although Wynne was painfully jealous of her friend's angelic voice, she would never let it show if she could help it. She grasped Anora's hand and gushed, "Oh, Anora, your voice is so beautiful! The others couldn't hold a candle to you."

Anora's cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as she squeezed Wynne's hand and replied, "Oh, Wynne, you're such a darling to say so. Father always said I inherited his looks and Mother's voice." Her face clouded over for a moment as she gave Wynne a look of sympathy. "I'm so sorry Lady Retta made you sit out. How are you to learn to sing if you can't participate in the lessons?"

Neither girl noticed Lady Retta approaching, so they both jumped guiltily when she responded right next to them, "Indeed." Wynne's eyes grew large as saucers, and Anora's face went from pink to crimson as they both searched for words of apology. Lady Retta's smile was kind as she said to Wynne, "There is no need for you to apologize. Anora is correct. It was unfair and unkind of me to have you sit out. It seems I gave the other girls even more reason to make sport of you, and for that I apologize."

Wynne felt her heart swell. It wasn't often that someone was so gracious in light of her shortcomings. Still, she knew that sitting out was a kinder option than participating would have been. She responded, "It's of no consequence. Lavinia and Bronwyn find reason to make sport of me even when I do something well." She made an unladylike face and continued, "Besides, it's obvious that the gifting fairy forgot to leave me the gift of music when I was born."

Anora giggled at Wynne's joke, but Lady Retta's face flushed as she recalled her careless remark to the class. "Wynne," she began apologetically. "I truly meant what I said about it being a rare person who cannot be taught to sing at least passably. Would you let me try, privately? We could go over the scales at least just after the midday meal, before your dancing lesson."

Wynne's expression was doubtful, but Anora bounced excitedly on her toes, clapping her hands. "Oh, Wynne, do let her try. I'll come too and help you."

Wynne was still apprehensive, but she didn't want to appear unappreciative or make it seem she was unwilling to try, so she agreed. Anora stifled a girlish squeal, and Lady Retta's eyes lit up with delight. Wynne couldn't help thinking this wouldn't end well, but she smiled and said nothing.

After a light lunch of nothing but fruit (Lady Retta stressed that eating too heavily or eating the wrong foods would make it difficult to sing well), Wynne and Anora started down the long passageway towards the solarium. Anora chattered happily about whatever came into her mind, but Wynne hardly heard her as she fretted over her lack of musical talent. She suddenly recalled seeing some of the eligible ladies sitting in the courtyard, warbling away to entertain a suitor. She had a vision of Gwaine sitting next to her, gazing adoringly at her with his enchanting brown eyes. As she opened her mouth and began to sing, Gwaine's eyes flew open in horror, and he ran away, covering his ears and begging her to stop.

"Wynne, are you listening to me?" Anora's voice startled Wynne back to reality, and she turned to her friend with a look of sheer panic on her face. Anora grasped Wynne's shoulders and asked anxiously, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"What if I truly can't sing, Anora?" Wynne asked almost tearfully. "What if…" She almost said Gwaine's name. "What if a suitor asks me to sing for him, and my singing frightens him away? I don't want to end up an old maid."

"Oh, Wynne. I'm sure that Lady Retta will be able to help you," Anora assured her, "And anyway, no man in his right mind would cast you off because you can't sing." Wynne hoped she was right.

Lady Retta was waiting in the solarium when Wynne and Anora arrived. Her glassy eyes and too-broad smile told Wynne that she had doubts as well. "Are you ready, then, Wynne?" Giving Anora a hasty glance, Wynne nodded, and Lady Retta replied quickly and nervously, "All right, then. Let's get started."

For a torturous half hour, Wynne tried again and again to sing the scales, but she just could not control her voice. She could hear the notes that Lady Retta sang, and she could hear that the notes she sang were not the same ones that Lady Retta sang, but she simply did not know how to make those notes come from her throat. Once or twice, quite by accident, Wynne managed to hit the correct notes, but even then the sound of her voice was anything but pleasant.

When the lesson was over, both Wynne and Lady Retta were close to shedding tears of frustration. Abashed at her utter failure, Wynne looked at Lady Retta and wondered what she would say. lady Retta seemed just as distressed as Wynne. She wrung her hands and said with empty encouragement, "We'll, Wynne, at least you hit some of the notes this time, even if you did it without trying. Maybe with more practice…and more extra lessons…" She glanced helplessly at Anora, who stood with her hands on her cheeks, staring wide-eyed at Wynne. Realizing that her friend's assessment of her own lack of talent was indeed accurate, she had run out of words of honest encouragement.

Wynne sighed resignedly and replied, "No, Lady Retta. I appreciate your trying, but I think we all know I am not destined to sing well. It's no use to waste your time or mine. I'll just have to find other ways to entertain guests." Her brow furrowed as she recalled her nightmarish vision of singing for Gwaine. "Or suitors."

"Yes, I suppose so," Lady Retta said faintly. She tried to avoid meeting Wynne's eyes, but she could not hide her obvious relief at Wynne's hasty decision to abandon extra singing lessons. She wondered if Lady Magdalen could be persuaded to allow the girl to discontinue lessons with the group. After a quick goodbye, Lady Retta hurried down the passageway towards the Council Chambers where the queen was meeting with Lady Magdalen and Berte.

Seeing that her friend was discouraged at her failed lesson, Anora attempted to cheer her. "Well, Wynne, even if you can't sing, you're still far ahead of everyone in the kitchen. My father always said that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

After a moment, Wynne smiled. Anora was right. She was quite good at cooking, and Gwaine had truly enjoyed her apple pie, even if he did tease her and try to make her think she needed more practice at baking. With that thought to encourage her, she headed off to courtly dance lessons feeling more confident and more hopeful.


	6. Chapter 6: Dancing with Disaster

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or its characters.**

When Wynne and Anora reached the ballroom, they both stopped dead in their tracks with mouths agape. The other young ladies were already there, and to Wynne's horror, so were the squires. Quickly realizing what was to happen, Wynne turned to Anora with bulging eyes and whispered, "The squires? We must learn to dance with the squires?"

Anora did not meet Wynne's eyes, but she could see that her friend's eyes bulged as well. However, instead of being glassy and anxious as Wynne's were, Anora's eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. Wynne followed the direction of Anora's gaze and realized she was staring at two squires who were leaning casually against the wall. Wynne recognized her cousin Boris and her nemesis Reginald. Her lip curled involuntarily as she fervently wished her cousin had better taste in friends.

Suddenly, Boris noticed them standing in the doorway. A huge grin split his face as he left Reginald's side and hurried over to them. Thinking he wished to speak to her, Wynne stepped forward to greet him. To her surprise, Boris walked right past her without even looking at her. He stopped inches in front of Anora and took her hands awkwardly in his as he smiled down at her. Anora's cheeks grew rosy as she giggled and gazed up at him. "Hello, Boris," she said softly.

"Hello, Anora," he replied, a lock of dark hair falling forward into his eyes. Wynne had never seen him acting so…nice.

Realizing the two wanted to be alone, Wynne slowly walked towards the other side of the room to wait for Lady Magdalen. Anora and her cousin? She never would have guessed they had feelings for each other. While a part of her was jealous that her friend could be open about her feelings for Boris–not to mention the fact that he shared her feelings–another part of her was happy and excited for her friend, and for herself. After all, if they married, she and Anora would be cousins.

Wynne made her way to a bench by the window, where she sat watching Arthur and the knights as they practiced sword fighting. As the knights parried with each other in mock battle, Wynne silently critiqued their skills. Suddenly noticing that Gwaine seemed to be missing, she frowned in disappointment and turned her attention back to the ballroom, where the other ladies and the squires were enjoying each other's company. Lavinia and Bronwyn, of course, each had two squires vying for their affections, and the others gathered in threes or fours, chatting amicably. Wynne glanced over to where Anora and Boris still stood holding hands and talking. Usually it didn't bother her that she was by herself, but seeing her one close friend among the ladies paired off with someone suddenly made her feel sad and left out. She sighed and turned to look out the window once more.

"I'll just bet you'd rather be out there with the knights," a voice beside her sneered.

Startled, Wynne turned quickly and saw Reginald glaring down at her with his beady blue eyes. She narrowed her eyes at him and responded, "Maybe I would; maybe I wouldn't. I can't see why that concerns you." Reginald's mere presence made her wish she truly were by herself once more.

Reginald leaned down and brought his face close to Wynne's, hissing, "It concerns me because when you forgot your place the other day during _my_ training, you made a fool of me in front of the Knights of Camelot and my fellow squires."

Wynne stood and met his eyes steadily; he was not going to intimidate her. "No, Reginald, I didn't make a fool of you," Wynne replied evenly. "You do that well enough yourself."

Two red splotches appeared on the squire's cheeks, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. "Make no mistake, Wyni-_frog_," he growled low. "You may think your little performance impressed the knights, but you're wrong; you're nothing but a laughingstock. No one wants a lady who doesn't know her place." He looked down at her condescendingly. "Not that you'll ever be much of a lady."

Wynne pursed her lips, and her eyes flashed fire as her chest tightened till she could barely breathe. Unable to speak, she raised her hand to slap Reginald. However, before she could strike, Lady Magdalen swept into the room followed by Lady Retta and…Gwaine? Wynne let her hand drop and gave Reginald one final glare before shoving him from her mind and scurrying over to where the other young ladies had gathered. Gwaine was not wearing his chain mail, but was clad in his usual brown breeches and a crisp, clean white shirt that offset his dark hair and eyes and his tanned skin. She was drinking in his handsomeness so intently that for a moment she didn't notice Anora had slipped in beside her.

Anora looked curiously at her friend's odd expression–her rosy cheeks, her sparkling eyes, and the way she was nervously biting her lip. She followed Wynne's gaze and realized who had captured her attention, and she smiled as a number of events from the past months suddenly made sense to her. Her best friend was obviously in love with Sir Gwaine. She glanced once more at the handsome, carefree knight, and she wondered if he knew Wynne's feelings for him, and more importantly, if he shared those feelings. She hoped so; she wanted her friend to be as happy as she was with Boris.

Suddenly, Lady Magdalen clapped her hands to get everyone's attention and then began, "Young ladies…and young gentlemen, today we will begin instruction in formal dancing." Most of the ladies appeared to be pleased with this announcement, while most of the squires curled their lips and scowled in silent displeasure. "Formal dancing is an important part of courtly celebrations, as well as an indication of a well-bred lady or gentleman. Therefore, it is my sincere hope that you will all do your best to learn enough to make a good showing, not only at the Presentation Ball a few months hence, but also at any feast or celebration you may find yourself attending." She turned to Lady Retta and Gwaine. "I have asked Lady Retta…" Here she paused to beam at her former prize pupil. "…and Sir Gwaine…" Her opinion of Gwaine was obvious in her expression of disapproval. "…to help me demonstrate some of the more common dances you will encounter." Lady Retta gave them all a warm smile and a quick curtsy, and Gwaine gave them a curt bow and an even briefer tight-lipped smile, making it obvious that he would much rather be out in the courtyard wielding a sword.

Gwaine and Lady Retta stepped into a large open space before the group and faced each other, then looked to Lady Magdalen for instruction. "We will begin with one of the newer dances that is becoming quite popular throughout the southern kingdoms. This one is a simple, medium-tempo dance that you should all…" Her eyes sought out Wynne and fixed pointedly upon her. "…learn fairly easily."

As Lady Magdalen began clapping out a rhythm, Gwaine and Lady Retta bowed and then came together, holding each other close, but still a proper distance apart. They glided together around the floor, one long step, two short steps, as Lady Magdalen hummed a tune and kept time by clapping. Every so often they would stop so Lady Retta could twirl out and back in again, and then they would dance gracefully around the floor once more. Their movements were so beautiful that Wynne couldn't help swaying back and forth and humming as she imagined dancing through the ballroom–no, in the courtyard beneath a full moon–with Gwaine. Oh, how she yearned to excel at these lessons, especially if Gwaine were present. She still felt the sting of Reginald's words, and she thought that if she could dance as beautifully as Lady Retta, she would prove Reginald wrong, and maybe Gwaine would dance with her at the ball.

When they finished, they bowed, first to each other and then to Lady Magdalen's pupils. The young ladies applauded enthusiastically, while the squires rolled their eyes and clapped once or twice. Lady Magdalen applauded as well; as strongly as she disapproved of Gwaine's laissez-faire attitude and his reputation with the ladies, he was without a doubt the most skilled of the knights when it came to courtly dance. "All right, ladies and gentlemen," Lady Magdalen announced. "Please quickly find yourselves a partner, and we will guide you through the steps."

The room suddenly came to life as the squires and the young ladies quickly paired off. Boris and Anora found each other, and there was a brief scuffle between Daffyd and Roderick over who would dance with Lavinia. Everyone else quickly found a partner, leaving Wynne glancing around in a panic. How humiliating it would be to be the only one without a dance partner! The only thing worse would be…

"I suppose I'm stuck with you, Wyni-frog," said an all-too-familiar and irritating voice behind her. She could not hide her disgust as she turned to face Reginald. Honestly, she'd rather dance with her cousin, or even with one of the stable boys, than with Reginald. "Wipe that grimace off your face, you little troll," he ground out, low. "I'm the one who should be disgusted. I'd rather dance with Lady Magdalen than with you." A malicious smile spread across his face as he grabbed Wynne's hand and pulled her roughly to him. "Actually, this might work to my advantage."

Wynne struggled against him, but refused to show the sudden fear that gripped her at his words. She glanced helplessly in Anora's direction, but she was gazing longingly at Boris and didn't notice her predicament. A glance at Lady Magdalen's stern face told her she would receive no help there; she stood ready to chastise Wynne for delaying the lesson by wrestling with Reginald. She swallowed hard, fixed her eyes over Reginald's shoulder on a point on the opposite wall, and got into position, her spine as stiff as a board.

Lady Retta and Gwaine resumed their positions, and Lady Magdalen began, "The basic pattern of this dance is one long step followed by two quick short steps–one, two-three, one, two-three. We'll worry about the twirling later. Now everyone try it." She began clapping the beat as she hummed the song.

All the couples began moving at the same time, trying to emulate Lady Retta and Gwaine. A few seemed to pick up the rhythm right away, while the rest loped clumsily across the floor, though none so clumsy as Reginald and Wynne. Reginald was being intentionally rough with Wynne, and Wynne resisted his every attempt to lead. Lady Magdalen stormed over to them, still clapping the beat and humming. "Wynifred, you are a lady," she sang to the tune she was humming. "You are supposed to let your partner lead."

Wynifred opened her mouth to protest that Reginald wasn't leading; he was bullying, but Lady Magdalen turned and walked over to guide another couple before she could say a word. She glared at Reginald and stopped pushing back against him, thinking that maybe he wouldn't bully her so much if she allowed him control. Just as they turned and took a long step, Wynne accidentally tramped on his foot. "Ow, you clumsy oaf!" he cried, drawing everyone's eyes.

"Beg pardon," Wynne said, her cheeks flaming. She really wasn't sorry at all, but she didn't want everyone watching them. Having to dance with Reginald was bad enough; having everyone's attention on them was more than she could bear.

As they turned again, she caught Gwaine's eye over Reginald's shoulder. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he winked at her. He knew she couldn't stand Reginald, and he obviously thought her moment of clumsiness was deliberate. Wynne's cheeks dimpled as she suppressed a smile; she didn't care if he did think she did it on purpose. Unfortunately, because she wasn't paying attention to her feet, she came down hard on Reginald's toes once more, making him cry out again.

"Wynifred!" Lady Magdalen called from across the room, where she was showing Bronwyn how to turn daintily on her toes. "You _must_ allow your partner to lead. If you are stepping on his toes, it is _your_ fault!"

Wynne glanced up at Reginald, who was giving her a superior smirk. Obviously, he was using her clumsiness as a means to get her into trouble. She wanted nothing more than to slug the smirk right off his face, but she decided he wasn't worth the additional trouble she would get in for doing it. In the next instant, Gwaine and Lady Retta danced in their direction. With a stern expression, Gwaine leaned in close to Reginald and instructed, "And if a lady does mistakenly step on your toes, it is in very poor taste to make a scene and draw attention to her." As they danced away, Lady Retta gave Wynne a sympathetic glance of encouragement.

Wynne and Reginald did a number of turns without incident, and Wynne relaxed and allowed some of the stiffness to leave her spine. However, just when Wynne thought she might get the hang of dancing, she felt a foot hook around hers and give a quick jerk. Before she knew what was happening, Reginald let go of her, and she tumbled backwards, landing hard on her backside with a yelp of surprise and pain.

Amid the gasps and giggles of Wynne's classmates, Lady Magdalen, Lady Retta and Gwaine all descended on her and Reginald. "Wynifred, what is the meaning of this?" Lady Magdalen cried, horrified.

"Me?" Wynne sputtered, not caring if she spoke disrespectfully. "That clotpole tripped me! Deliberately!"

"Wynifred, you will mind your tongue!" Lady Magdalen chastised, before turning hawkish eyes to Reginald. "Young man, did you indeed trip Wynifred?"

Of course, all malice had fled from Reginald's face, and he was the picture of innocence and hurt surprise as he gaped at her and shook his head. "N-no, milady. Why would I trip a young lady?"

Lady Magdalen put her hands on her hips and glared down at Wynne. "Shame on you, Wynifred, for blaming your clumsiness on your partner!"

Gwaine was not so easily fooled by Reginald's act. Although he had not seen what had happened, he was familiar enough with Reginald's behavior to know Wynne was telling the truth. His brown eyes blazed as he glared warningly at Reginald, and the squire knew that he would suffer the consequences at his next training. He didn't care. It was worth it to see this little chit ripped to shreds by Lady Magdalen. Gwaine's eyes softened as he looked down at Wynne and gave his hand to help her rise. He kept his voice stern, but he hoped Wynne understood his intentions when he growled, "Wynifred, perhaps you would do better with a partner who can keep you in line." He bowed to Lady Retta and said, "With your leave, milady, I believe we should exchange partners." Wynne indeed caught Gwaine's intent, and for a moment, her heart soared.

Before Lady Retta could agree, Lady Magdalen stepped in. Recalling that Wynne was smitten with Gwaine, she misinterpreted not only Gwaine's gesture, but also wrongly assumed an ulterior motive for Wynne's clumsiness. "That will not be necessary, Sir Gwaine." Lady Magdalen turned to the others and called out to the first couple she laid eyes on. "Boris, Anora, you will exchange partners. Boris, I am confident that you can keep your cousin in line."

Boris and Anora exchanged a crestfallen glance before Boris bowed to her and replied, "Yes, Lady Magdalen." His gaze lingered on Anora as they parted.

As Anora came to stand beside Reginald, Wynne caught her eye regretfully and whispered, "I'm sorry, Anora." Anora gave her friend a tight-lipped smile in return. She knew Wynne was not at fault.

Boris took Wynne's hand and got into position. His eyes were hard as he glared down at her. "Way to go, cousin. Why can't you just do as you're told for once?"

As the lesson resumed, and Wynne stumbled around the dance floor with her cousin, she watched Gwaine and Lady Retta gliding effortlessly around the dance floor. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall as she felt the disappointment of being denied a dance with Gwaine. She was certain that she wouldn't be so ungainly with a skilled partner like him, but now she would likely never know. As she caught a glimpse of Anora and Reginald turning around the floor, the obvious misery on her dear friend's face made her heart sink even lower, and she fervently wished for the lesson to be over.

Lady Magdalen taught them two more dances. Though Boris wasn't as cruel as Reginald, he was still impatient and very critical whenever Wynne stumbled or stepped on his foot. Wynne tried her hardest to hold her tongue, knowing much of his ill humor came from being denied dancing with Anora, but after he'd snapped at her for what seemed like the hundredth time, she'd had enough. In the middle of the galliard, she pushed away from him and snapped back irritably, "I'll bet you don't criticize Anora like that!"

Boris threw his hands up in frustration and replied loudly, "I don't have to; Anora doesn't have two left feet!"

Wynne's face grew hot as everyone else once again stopped to stare at her. She heard Bronwyn whisper loudly to her partner, "If you think she dances badly, you should hear her sing." Wynne tried to act as though she didn't hear as Bronwyn and her partner both laughed.

Lady Magdalen tapped her foot as she scowled in their direction. "If the two of you are finished, we will continue."

Wynne suffered through the remainder of the lesson, keeping her jaw tightly clenched and her eyes unblinking so that the rising tears would not fall. When at last the lesson was over and Lady Magdalen dismissed them, Wynne pushed past Boris and darted out of the ballroom. Anora would have hurried after her, but Boris stopped her. Anora protested, "Oh, Boris, she is my friend, and your cousin. We should make sure she's all right."

"She'll be fine, darling," Boris insisted, pulling Anora close to stroke her cheek. "Wynne prefers to be alone when she's upset. You can speak with her at dinner."

Anora wavered, knowing she should follow her friend, but wanting to stay with Boris. "But she's had such an awful day, first the singing lessons and now the dancing…" she argued weakly.

Boris sighed, "Poor Wynne never has been musically inclined. Or graceful."

"And it was quite brash of you to point it out to everyone here." Boris and Anora both jumped; they did not see Gwaine approaching. "Just because she is your cousin does not make it acceptable to be harsh with her or to make a fool of her. Reginald did enough of that, and I was under the impression you had a bit more character than he does."

Boris hung his head in shame, knowing Gwaine was correct. Anora gave him a reproachful yet loving glance before taking his hand. "We should really go check on her."

Gwaine grinned knowingly at her and replied with a wink, "I know you two young lovers want to be together. Why don't I go check on her? I have a good idea where she may be hiding."

As they watched the knight hurry out of the ballroom, Anora smiled to herself. Maybe Gwaine did know how Wynne felt about him, and maybe his concern for her was evidence that he felt the same way. She certainly hoped so.


	7. Chapter 7: Not-so-secret After All

**Yes, I know, two chapters in as many days. I seem to be on a roll. This chapter is a bit fluffy, but it will set up some conflict between Wynne and Gwaine. I do not own Merlin or its characters.**

Wynne dashed down the back staircase and through the passageway to Gaius and Merlin's chambers. She knocked softly but urgently on the door, hoping to find at least one of them there. To her relief, Merlin opened the door almost immediately. Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he grasped her hand and pulled her inside, shutting the door tightly. "Wynne, what's wrong? What's happened?" he asked, concerned.

Bursting into sobs, she sputtered, "Oh, Merlin, it was awful, just awful!" He guided her to a chair and poured two mugs of cider. She cradled her mug in her hands as she told Merlin about that whole horrible day–the disastrous singing lessons (although Merlin found it humorous and had to cover his mouth to keep his chuckling at bay), learning of Anora's love for Boris, Reginald's cruel comments, and her failure at formal dancing. "What if Reginald is right, Merlin? What if I never learn to be a lady? What if Gwaine–and everyone else–rejects me and I end up an old maid?"

Merlin sighed, unsure of what to say to the self-conscious young lady sitting in front of him. He doubted it would help to remind her that his mother wasn't a fine lady, but she had been adored by his father and all who knew her. He doubted it would help to remind her that Gwen had been just a servant, and now she was queen. He had his doubts that Wynne would ever perfect the finer points of etiquette and deportment that she was expected to learn, but he certainly wasn't going to say that. He thought about telling her that he doubted Gwaine really cared about any of those things; the tavern girls he favored certainly lacked those qualities. No, he couldn't say that either.

Before he could say anything, there was a loud knock at the door, and Gwaine called out, "Merlin? Are you there?"

"Oh no," Wynne hissed, her eyes flying open wide as she bolted out of her seat. "I can't talk to him, I can't face him. Don't tell him I'm here."

"Just a minute, Gwaine," Merlin called out, and then mouthed to Wynne, "What should I tell him?"

Wynne frantically glanced around for a place to hide. "Just tell him you haven't seen me," she whispered, and then dashed across the room to crouch behind a large trunk full of books near the door.

Merlin hurried over to the door and yanked it open. "Hello, Gwaine. We missed you at practice," he said, a bit too cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

Gwaine cocked an eyebrow at him and gave him a curious look. "Is everything…all right?" he asked, knowing there was something that wasn't.

Merlin nodded emphatically and assured him that everything was fine. His eyes drifted to the side, making it obvious that he was hiding something…or someone.

Gwaine's eyes followed Merlin's gaze, and he caught a glimpse of Wynne's dark hair behind the trunk. He fought to suppress a grin as he continued, "Poor Wynne had quite a time of it at dance lessons, and she seemed distressed when she left. I just wondered if you'd seen her."

Merlin's grin widened for a moment before he forced a concerned expression as he shook his head and answered loudly, "No, no, haven't seen her all day, I'm afraid. Just got in myself…polishing armor, cleaning boots, gathering herbs…"

Gwaine fought even harder not to laugh at his friend as he glanced over Merlin's shoulder and spotted two mugs of cider on the table. His grin finally won out, and he teased, "I see. Such hard work obviously made you quite thirsty." Merlin suddenly looked trapped, as though he knew what Gwaine was looking at. "So thirsty you needed two mugs of cider. If it were something stronger, I'd have some myself."

A barely audible gasp from behind the trunk, as well as Merlin's guilty countenance, made Gwaine chuckle. Merlin sighed and then laughed sheepishly before saying to the trunk, "You might as well come out, Wynne. He's onto us."

After a moment, Wynne crept out from behind the trunk and stood up, barely able to raise her eyes to the two men standing by the door. Gwaine, still in his crisp white shirt, smiled his cocky but sweet smile, his eyes dancing merrily as he crossed his arms and gazed at her. Merlin's face was kind and sympathetic, but his eyes were full of guilt. "I'm sorry, Wynne," he said. "I'm a terrible liar."

"That's all right, Merlin," she replied in a small, shaky voice. "I'm a terrible dancer. And an even worse singer." Her voice quavered with tears once more as she sank down onto the trunk. "And a failure at being a proper lady."

At the sight of Wynne's tears, Merlin cast a helpless glance at Gwaine; Gwaine was much better at dealing with women than he was. Gwaine's smile melted, and his brows furrowed with concern. He hadn't realized she was feeling so defeated. He pushed past Merlin and sat down next to Wynne on the trunk, gathering her into his arms and holding her tight against his broad chest. "Wynne, lass, you're not a failure," he soothed, brushing a cobweb from her hair and laying his cheek against the top of her head. "Not at all."

The warmth of Gwaine's embrace and the scent of sweat and clean linen calmed her a bit, but she still couldn't see past her ineptitude. "How can you say that?" she asked, pushing away and burying her face in her hands. "I'm nothing like the other ladies. I'm loud, I'm clumsy, I use harsh language, I like frogs and snakes and bugs, I'm always dropping something or spilling something or tripping over my dress…" Wynne didn't notice first Gwaine and then Merlin begin to shake with suppressed laughter as she continued to catalog her shortcomings. "…I fell in the bloody moat; now they all call me Wyni-frog. I fell asleep at the table with my hair in my soup…"

Gwaine gave up trying to contain his mirth; he doubled over with laughter, and Merlin soon followed. After a stunned moment, Wynne got quickly to her feet to storm out. They thought she was a joke too. Seeing the mortification on her face, Gwaine grabbed her hand and spoke through tears of laughter. "Wynne, I'm sorry. Don't go." He looked up at her pleadingly as she tried to pull free. "Wynne, those things don't mean you're a failure, or that you're not a lady."

She reluctantly sat down on the edge of the trunk and wailed hopelessly, "But I can't do the things a lady is supposed to do. I can't sing beautifully like Anora can; in fact, I can't sing at all." Gwaine bit back a laugh; Lady Retta had mentioned her disastrous attempts and praised her perseverance. Wynne shot him an annoyed glance before continuing, "I can't dance gracefully like Lady Retta, I can't play the lyre like Priscilla and Bernice, my needlework is always in knots, and I just make a mess of everything."

Gwaine's expression was a mixture of disbelieving amusement and tenderness as he listened to Wynne berate herself. Wasn't the girl aware of all the things she could do? He reached over to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and then placed a finger under her chin to tip her face up to look at him. "Wynne, I never would have believed you'd be the type to measure your own worth by the things others can do." His eyes gleamed mischievously as he teased, "Besides, I think it's safe to say that you wield a sword better than all the other young ladies."

Merlin laughed as she let her breath out in a huff. "But a lady isn't supposed to wield a sword," she argued, even though she truly loved sparring with her cousins or with the younger squires. She met Gwaine's eyes once more and said, "Reginald says all the knights think I'm a joke because I don't know my place and I don't act like a lady."

Merlin snorted with disgust, and Gwaine laughed humorlessly. "Why would you take to heart anything Reginald tells you?" His eyes hardened as he added grimly, "I'll show that horse's ass what it means to be a joke." Suddenly remembering that he was in the presence of a young lady, he quickly apologized.

Wynne gave him a watery smile and met his eyes pleadingly. "So you don't think it's a joke that I handle a sword better than a sewing needle?"

Both men laughed at her joke, and Gwaine pulled Wynne close. "I wouldn't want you to make a habit of it," he warned good-naturedly. "But you're far from being a joke. Wynne, you're a breath of fresh air; I wouldn't want you to be a stuffy, proper lady, even if it means you can't sing or dance or embroider your name on a hankie."

"If it makes you feel any better, Wynne," Merlin interjected. "I heard Gaius telling Lady Magdalen that he's quite impressed by your ability to identify herbs and know when to use them. He says you're far ahead of the others," he smiled sheepishly, "And he said he might trade me in on you if I'm not careful."

Gwaine laughed at Merlin's comment and gave Wynne an encouraging shake. "There now, you're not such a failure then, are you?" Wynne smiled a little broader at his comment as some of the heaviness left her heart. He gave her hair a playful tug and whispered, "I hear you're also quite the mistress of the kitchens."

Merlin chuckled and added, "Berte tells me she's learned a few things from you."

Wynne giggled, blushing at the praise. She was certain Berte had only been teasing when she said that. She commented, "My mother used to tell me I was trying to cook before I could even reach the top of the oven."

Gwaine laughed easily, happy to see the dark cloud had finally passed. He was truly fond of Wynne, and he knew that someday someone would appreciate her for the wonderful young woman she was. He suddenly felt a twinge of…was that envy?…as he thought of another man courting her when she came of age. He shook his head to rid him of that annoying thought, and then turned mischievous eyes to her and teased, "That may be true, but your apple pies could use a bit of improvement."

Merlin stared at Gwaine, dumbfounded; why would he say something like that? Wynne, too, gaped at him for a moment before she realized he was teasing her. She gave him a shove and then began playfully pommeling his shoulder. He laughed and protested, holding up his hands to defend himself, and then reached over to tickle her. She giggled and squealed and grabbed his hands to make him stop.

It was this fun-filled scene that met Gaius' eyes when he suddenly opened the door and walked in the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, surprise and confusion on his face. Merlin noticed him first and jumped to his feet. "Gaius!"

Gwaine and Wynne both looked up guiltily. Gwaine stood quickly, his expression immediately dispassionate. "Well, I suppose I should go see the Princess since I was forced to miss training this afternoon." He hurried out the door as though nothing unusual had happened.

Wynne, too, stood up, although she wasn't as skilled as Gwaine in hiding her emotions; her cheeks flushed rosily as she stammered, "I sh-should really…be getting ready…f-for dinner…" She ducked her head and darted out of the room.

Gaius turned to Merlin, a slight smile on his face. He hadn't missed the fact that there had been something in Gwaine's eyes as he tickled Wynne, something he had never seen there with any of the women he had wooed. Wynne's feelings were far more obvious; apparently she had taken quite a liking to Gwaine. Gaius' smile widened as Merlin's guilty expression confirmed his suspicions. "I do believe we have a bit of secret admiration in our midst." He walked over to the table and set down his medicine bag.

Merlin came to the table to help him replenish the herbs he had used. He grinned sheepishly as he confirmed, "Yes, Wynne is quite smitten with Gwaine, I'm afraid. She thinks no one knows, but I'm afraid it's pretty obvious."

Gaius chuckled. "Yes, it is. But unless I'm mistaken, I believe the feeling is mutual." Merlin cocked his head questioningly, and Gaius nodded. "Gwaine will never admit to it, but Wynne has found her way into his heart. I have a feeling that once Wynne is old enough to be honorably courted, Camelot's playboy knight may just lose his title."


	8. Chapter 8, Hope for a Dark Day

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or its characters.**

Despite a restless night's sleep, Wynne was in good spirits the following morning for two reasons. First and foremost, she still carried in her heart the memory of the conversation and the playful scuffle she'd had with Gwaine the previous afternoon, a memory that was both strong enough and pleasant enough to shove to the back of her mind the all-too-realistic dreams that had disturbed her slumber. The other reason was that Lady Retta had offered her a reprieve from that morning's singing lessons. Lady Retta truly liked Wynne, and she couldn't bear to put her through another hour of humiliation. Since Lady Magdalen would once more be busy with the queen and Berte, she would be none the wiser.

Wynne looked forward to spending a pleasant morning with Gaius and Merlin grinding herbs and mixing tinctures, something she was becoming quite good at. She was so light-hearted that she fairly skipped as she made her way down the back staircase and along the passageway to Gaius' chamber. So happy was she that she unconsciously began singing the song they had danced to yesterday, making up lyrics about Gwaine to match the tune. She winced as she heard her voice echoing back to her. _Oh my_, she thought to herself, a little less light-hearted than before._ I truly cannot sing_. She stubbornly shoved the unpleasant thought to the back of her mind as she knocked on Gaius' door.

Almost immediately, Merlin yanked the door open. Forcing a serious expression, he said, "I'm sorry, Wynne, but Gwaine isn't here."

Wynne's face flushed scarlet as she gaped at him, unable to believe he'd just said that in front of Gaius. Merlin laughed as she shoved him and hissed, "You clotpole, you promised you wouldn't say anything."

As Gaius bustled around the small room gathering supplies, he chuckled to himself and pretended not to hear their exchange. As he took in the mortified indignation in Wynne's eyes, he thought how lucky Merlin was that she didn't have magic, or else he might have found himself in a heap on the floor.

A quarter hour later, Wynne was seated at a table with a mortar and pestle and a large basket of dried yarrow in front of her. As she ground the herbs and measured them into clay jars, she smiled to herself as she happily thought of the singing lesson she was missing.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~

In the sunny solarium, Lady Retta had finished warming up with scales and was teaching the young ladies a courtly love song. Suddenly, the door opened, and in came Lady Magdalen. Lady Retta's heart leapt into her throat. What would she say when she discovered that Wynne was not participating in the lesson? She swallowed hard and pasted a smile on her face. "Good morning, Lady Magdalen. What a…pleasant surprise," she greeted haltingly.

Lady Magdalen smiled warmly in return and replied, "Good morning, Lady Retta, young ladies. The queen was detained by some unexpected business, so I wished to see how you were faring with singing lessons."

"Oh," Lady Retta said nervously. "Fine. Everything is just fine. We were just working on one of the songs you taught me when I was in finishing school." She tried to stand in such a way that she hid the fact that Wynne was missing.

Unaware of Lady Retta's tension, Lady Magdalen nodded with satisfaction. "Marvelous! Might I hear a bit of what they have learned?"

"Of course," Lady Retta responded tensely, her cheeks flushing. She turned to the young ladies, trembling slightly.

Lady Magdalen clasped her hands, eager to hear the ladies sing. However, just as Lady Retta was about to have them begin, Lady Magdalen held up her hand. "Wait a minute," she commanded. Her sharp eyes had noticed what Lady Retta had hoped to hide. "Where is Wynifred?"

A couple of the ladies tittered; others, including Anora, looked anxiously at Lady Retta, wondering what she would tell Lady Magdalen. After a moment's hesitation, she instructed her class, "Ladies, please practice the chorus we just learned while I have a word with Lady Magdalen."

As the two women walked a few feet away, the young ladies began to sing, though they did so softly so that they could overhear the conversation. Lady Magdalen turned to Lady Retta and asked coldly, "Why isn't Wynifred here? Is she ill, or is there some other reason?" Her tone suggested that she already knew that Wynne wasn't ill.

Lady Retta fidgeted with the ribbons on her dress. She knew that Lady Magdalen wanted the truth, but she was certain that the older woman would not be convinced of Wynne's lack of ability. The last thing she wanted was to get Wynne into trouble again; she knew how much the girl clashed with Lady Magdalen. At last she sighed and began. "Lady Magdalen, believe me when I say I tried, and so did Wynne…" Lady Magdalen cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, already not liking what she heard. Lady Retta cleared her throat and went on, "Lady, truly, she…cannot carry a tune. At all."

"Nonsense," Lady Magdalen interrupted. "Neither you nor I have ever encountered anyone who cannot be taught to sing at least passably, and I refuse to believe that Wynifred is the first."

Lady Retta smiled grimly, recognizing the very words she had said to Wynne. She shook her head and argued, "I'm afraid I have met my match in Wynne. I even met with her privately, but she simply cannot follow a tune. She is…" Lady Retta hated to say the word. "…Unteachable."

"The only reason Wynifred is unteachable is because she desires to be," Lady Magdalen insisted. She raised her chin to look imperiously down at the younger woman and continued icily, "There is something you must understand about young Wynifred. She is extremely bright, maybe too bright for her own good, and is also quite stubborn. Wynifred's aunt informed me that she is very good at finding ways around that which she does not want to do. Obviously, singing is one of the things she does not want to do." She turned abruptly and dismissed Lady Retta. "I will put an end to this foolishness right now."

In Gaius' chamber, Wynne was watching the aged physician measure herbs into bottles to make some of the more common tinctures used at Camelot. "Now, Wynne," he said, dropping large pinches of yarrow into a small bottle. "This herb, when combined with white sage, will prevent infection in all but the most grievous of wounds."

His words were interrupted by a loud rap at the door. Wynne's eyes widened as Merlin hurried across the room to open the door; she had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach who was there, and she knew it wasn't a mere social call. Her feeling was proven correct as Merlin opened the door and Lady Magdalen's piercing eyes immediately found Wynne. "Wynifred, why are you here instead of at singing lessons with the others? Your herbal lessons are not until tomorrow."

Gaius stood and was about to make excuse for her, but Wynne stopped him. "No, Gaius, it's all right." She stood and brushed some stray yarrow from her gray dress before facing Lady Magdalen. "I begged Lady Retta to excuse me from singing lessons because…" she began. That statement wasn't entirely true, but she did not want Lady Retta to get in trouble for her kindness. "…because I cannot sing. I'm a hopeless case." She glanced at Merlin, her defiant eyes daring him to laugh at her again, but there was no amusement on his face this time.

Lady Magdalen raised her chin imperiously and glared down at the girl. "Nonsense, Wynifred," she exclaimed. "You need only to apply yourself to your voice lessons as you obviously have to your kitchen skills and your herbal knowledge." Wynne barely contained a gasp; was that almost a compliment? For her? From Lady Magdalen? "I cannot and will not have one of my young ladies shirking her lessons simply because she finds something difficult."

Having no knowledge of what had occurred the previous day during singing lessons, Gaius took Lady Magdalen's side. "Wynne, I believe Lady Magdalen is correct. We can continue this later. You run along to your voice lesson."

Wynne's eyes pleaded silently with Gaius to persuade Lady Magdalen to allow her to stay, but his mind was set. She cast a helpless glance to Merlin before Lady Magdalen ushered her out of the room; Merlin's expression was just as helpless as he watched them leave. After the door had shut with a bang, Gaius turned to Merlin with a look of amusement. "Honestly, the girl acts as though she were headed for the gallows instead of the solarium."

Merlin gave him an apprehensive look and replied grimly, "I believe Wynne _feels_ as though she's headed for the gallows."

~. ~. ~. ~. ~

Wynne swallowed hard as they reached the door to the solarium. A pleasant, upbeat melody came from inside, the song they had learned yesterday. To Wynne it sounded like a funeral dirge. She hesitated until Lady Magdalen cleared her throat meaningfully. Wynne glanced up at her and then tugged the door open and went inside, followed closely by Lady Magdalen.

The young ladies stopped singing, and Lady Retta turned abruptly to face them. She immediately took in the stony yet fearful expression on Wynne's face and the hard, determined expression on Lady Magdalen's face, and she knew that Wynne had been unsuccessful in convincing the older woman of her plight.

"Wynifred will rejoin the class now," Lady Magdalen announced. A few of the ladies tittered and glanced at each other, and Bronwyn whispered something to Lavinia, making her choke a laugh into a cough. Wynne tried to ignore them, but Lady Magdalen fixed steely eyes on them as she continued, "I will stay to hear the ladies' progress so far." Wynne clearly heard what she did not say, that she would keep an eye on her as well. Her gaze shifted to Wynne, indicating that the girl was to take her place among the others.

Wynne trudged over to stand beside Anora, who squeezed Wynne's hand and gave her a brief sympathetic glance before turning her attention back to Lady Retta. Lady Magdalen took a seat on a bench along the wall as Lady Retta turned to the ladies once more. Her eyes were glassy with anxiety, and her voice trembled as she asked, "Wynne, do you remember the song…we…sang at yesterday's lesson?" More suppressed giggles from the other girls as Wynne nodded. Lady Retta nodded in return and then cleared her throat and raised her hand. "All right, ladies. One, two, three…"

The next hour was spent in unsuccessful attempts to get Wynne to sing something–anything–in a way that didn't make everyone around her cringe and cover their ears. After an hour of humiliation, frustration, and irritation, the singing class was dismissed. While Lady Retta and Lady Magdalen huddled together to discuss what could be done about Wynne, Wynne and Anora escaped out a side door and into the courtyard. They sat down beneath a tree, and Wynne rested her head on her knees and groaned, "Could that have possibly gone any worse?"

Anora rested her hand on Wynne's back and replied indignantly, "How could Lady Magdalen be so cruel, not only making you rejoin the class, but making you sing alone for her while she criticized everything?"

Wynne raised her head to look at Anora. She knew that speaking harshly against Lady Magdalen would be disrespectful and wouldn't make her feel any better, so she simply said, "She doesn't mean to be cruel; she just believes that if I practice and apply myself, I'll be able to sing without sounding like…a lovesick frog."

Anora couldn't help it; she had to stifle a giggle. When Wynne turned miserable eyes to her, she bit the inside of her cheek and quickly apologized. "Sorry, Wynne. They call you Wynifrog…and you said you sing like a frog…sorry." She looked away, feeling horrible for laughing at her friend.

Wynne sat up and smiled wanly. "It's all right, Anora," she said. "That's why I made that joke. Laugh to keep from crying, right?"

"Oh, Wynne," Anora sighed, her eyebrows coming together in frustration. "I just wish…"

A man's voice interrupted her thought, and both girls leaned over to peer around the tree. By Anora's reaction, Wynne didn't need to look to know who the voice belonged to; it was Boris, and Anora immediately flushed pink and giggled excitedly. When Wynne heard a second voice, it was her turn to flush pink; Gwaine was with Boris.

Boris heard Anora's giggle and turned his attention quickly to her. A wide grin split his face as it did every time he saw Anora, and his voice softened as he said, "Hello, Anora. All finished with singing lessons?"

Anora took the hand he offered and stood before responding, "Yes. All done with archery?"

He chuckled and nodded. "Shall we take a walk before lunch?"

"All right," she giggled, before remembering her friend. She turned quickly, suddenly apologetically flustered. "Sorry, Wynne. I didn't mean to…is it all right…?"

Wynne pasted on a smile and waved them away. "Of course, Anora. You two go on ahead." To herself, she thought, _I'm sure I'll mess up dancing for you again, so enjoy some time together now_. She plucked a weed and twirled it in her fingers as she enviously watched them walk away, hand in hand.

She had forgotten about Gwaine standing there until he stepped around the tree and seated himself next to her in the shade. Noticing her expression and the direction of her gaze, he smiled and commented, "Young love, so sweet, so innocent, so sickening for everyone else."

Wynne barely cracked a smile before looking down at her weed. "I suppose," she mumbled, not even in the mood for Gwaine's jokes.

Gwaine recalled that Wynne had just finished singing lessons and deduced that that was the reason for her ill humor. He had overheard part of the girls' conversation, and he decided, perhaps unwisely, to tease Wynne. "Well, they say that in Spring, a young man's heart turns to thoughts of love." Wynne glanced at him, wondering why he was going on about young love. Did he have someone special too? Seeing that he had her attention now, he grinned mischievously and teased, "Now for me, springtime makes me think of the frogs in the moat. I fall asleep at night listening to the frogs singing to each other."

Wynne's face fell, and she threw down her weed, jumped up and shouted almost tearfully, "Not you too! Am I meant to be the butt of everyone's jokes? I can't help it if I sing like a frog!" She turned and stormed off towards the castle.

Gwaine realized at once that he had chosen a bad time and a bad subject to tease Wynne about. He jumped up and hurried after her. Getting in front of her, he grasped her arms and looked down at her apologetically. "Wynne, lass, I was only teasing you. I've never even heard you sing. It can't be that bad, can it?" She glared up at him with tears in her eyes, and he saw that it was. "It is that bad, eh? Do you want to tell me about it?"

Wynne shook her head emphatically. No, if he didn't already know about it, she didn't want to tell him. "There's nothing you can do anyway," she muttered. "Even Lady Retta can't teach me." That was as much as she was going to tell him.

"Wynne, lass," he sighed. "You're putting far too much emphasis on one thing you can't do well. No one in their right mind will look down on you for that." He didn't voice the thoughts he had about Lady Magdalen; he had his doubts whether the old hag was in her right mind.

"Well, I can't dance either," she sulked, recalling yesterday's disastrous lesson. Her spirits fell further as she remembered that they would have dance lessons once more after lunch. A sudden ray of hope struck her, and she asked, "Will you be there again this afternoon?"

Gwaine's smile dimmed a bit, and he responded apologetically, "No, lass, not today, I'm afraid. The Princess doesn't want me to miss two days of training in a row." He grinned broadly once more. "Percival has the honors today, even if he is just a big lout."

"Oh," Wynne replied, trying to hide her disappointment. Percival was nice, and he didn't seem like the type who would be critical of her mistakes, but he just wasn't Gwaine.

Shielding his eyes from the bright light, Gwaine looked at the sky to check the angle of the sun. Seeing there was still time before the midday meal, he gallantly held out his hand to her and asked, "Would you feel better if I led you in a bit of extra practice?"

Wynne's eyes widened, and her pulse quickened as she stared at his outstretched hand. A slow smile spread across her face as she reached out and put her own small hand tentatively in his. Gwaine led her to a somewhat secluded section of the courtyard, where they weren't likely to be seen.

The sound of bird songs filled Wynne's ears as the two assumed the beginning position for the first dance they'd learned. Wynne was suddenly intensely aware of Gwaine's closeness, of his hand clasping hers and his other hand resting gently yet firmly on her waist. Her breath caught, and her head spun so that she feared she would faint. In the next instant, she panicked as she realized she couldn't recall even the steps to this simple dance. She glanced up at Gwaine, her eyes glassy and frantic; she wanted so much to dance well with him, to show him she wasn't just a silly, clumsy oaf.

As if sensing her apprehension, Gwaine reminded her of the steps. "This dance is simple," he instructed softly. "One long step, two short steps; one long step, two short steps." He began moving, and as she had the day before, she stumbled along with her partner, either bumping into him or getting out of step and pulling in the opposite direction. Several times she accidentally stomped on his foot, making him grunt and chuckle. With each toe-tramping, Wynne became more flustered, which made her even more clumsy. This was nothing like she thought it would be; she had imagined gliding effortlessly across the floor with Gwaine, as if on a cloud. Instead she galumphed like a lame horse, stepping on his toes even more than she had on Reginald's. Understanding that much of her clumsiness was due to her tenseness, Gwaine adjusted his hold slightly and soothed, "Relax, Wynne. Just relax and move with me. Let me lead."

"How can I move with you if I don't know which direction you're going to move next?" Wynne wailed matter-of-factly. "I can't read your mind, you know. Anyway, you try dancing backwards."

Gwaine couldn't help laughing. The girl certainly wasn't afraid to say what she thought, was she? "I suppose you're right," he conceded. "I never thought of it that way." Smiling warmly down at her, he advised, "If you can relax, you will begin to read my body, and you'll be able to sense the direction I'm going to go. Try it."

"All right," Wynne sighed, unconvinced. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, determined to give it her all. Still watching her feet, she willed the tension out of her spine and began following Gwaine across the ground.

At first it made no difference, and she continued to stumble and stomp on Gwaine's toes, but soon it felt less awkward. To help her more easily read his intended moves, Gwaine exaggerated his cues so she knew where he wanted to go. After a few smooth turns, he encouraged, "That's much better. Can you feel the difference?"

Wynne smiled and raised her eyes to his face. "Yes," she breathed, and then locked eyes with him. Suddenly, she felt herself falling helplessly into the depths of his deep brown eyes. She felt the way she had when she was submerged in the moat, but this was pleasant…wonderful…and she didn't want to be rescued. She knew she should look away or risk betraying her feeling for him, but she couldn't. And she didn't want to.

Wynne needn't have worried; Gwaine was oblivious to the emotion written on her face, but not because he was blind or didn't care.. He was simply experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. As she had glanced up at him, something in her eyes caught his attention, and he was mesmerized. He noticed for the first time the deep blue of her eyes, and the tiny gold flecks that made her dark blue eyes look like a starry twilight sky. He knew he should look away; she was just a girl, after all, and she must think him a cad for staring so intensely. But he couldn't look away; he didn't want to. He wanted to go on dancing forever, lost in those beautiful eyes.

"Now isn't this a precious sight?" a man's voice said, close by. "Gwaine, are you giving private dance lessons on the side?"

At the sound of the voice, Wynne and Gwaine quickly jumped apart, startled out of their respective reveries. Gwaine was first to recover, and he turned towards the voice, which it turned out belonged to Sir Leon. He and Sir Percival had been on their way into the castle for the noon meal and saw them dancing. Now they stood with arms crossed, laughing. "Don't be ridiculous," Gwaine responded as nonchalantly as he could. "I was only reviewing yesterday's lesson with Wynne. You heard how that clotpole Reginald treated her yesterday." Seeing the unconvinced smirks on their faces, Gwaine's eyes hardened, and he took a stab at Percival. "Besides, if Percival is assisting today, Wynne will need all the help she can get."

"Hey," Sir Percival growled with feigned anger.

Sir Leon just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, "All right, boys," he jokingly chastised. "No fighting in front of the young lady. Let's go inside and get something to eat. I'm starving."

Gwaine quickly agreed, and after a stiff bow and a quick, tight-lipped smile to Wynne, he joined his companions. Maybe some food would clear his mind of whatever strange experience had just befallen him.

As the men left, Wynne leaned against the wall and sank down to a sitting position, her knees suddenly too weak to hold her up any longer. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the lingering gaze and the heavenly, though clumsy, dance she had just shared with Gwaine. She was even more determined to work hard at her lessons so that he might someday see her as a fine lady.


	9. Chapter 9: The Not-Quite Secret

**Unbeknownst to both Wynne and Gwaine, their mutual feelings for each other are anything but secret. While most of their friends are either happy about the discovery, or maybe amused by it, there are some who will use the knowledge to cause problems.**

By the time the knights and the squires were seated in the dining hall, Leon and Percival had obviously shared the story of Gwaine's impromptu dance lesson with Elyan and a couple other knights. All throughout the midday meal, Gwaine spent as much time defending himself from the taunts of his companions as he did eating. As the squires looked on curiously, not knowing who they were talking about, Gwaine kept his head bent closely over his bowl of stew, trying hard to ignore their jests.

After watching his friend gulp several mouthfuls of stew without even chewing, Percival clapped Gwaine on the back and commented, "Gwaine seems to have worked up the appetite of a bear this morning."

Leon barely kept a straight face as he quipped, "A _dancing_ bear." As Elyan sputtered into his mead, Leon lost his own battle and laughed at his joke. "It's too bad Gwaine isn't as graceful with his sword as he is with a certain young lady." While Leon was enjoying taunting his friend, he was careful not to speak Wynne's name; he didn't want to cause trouble for her.

Gwaine tore off a chunk of bread with more force than he intended and replied through gritted teeth, "I've already told you boys how it was. I was merely defending a damsel in distress from the dragon lady's wrath." He attempted to stare them down, but their smirks forced him to turn his attention to his stew once more.

"You'd better not let Lady Magdalen hear you call her that," Leon warned, taking a swallow of mead. "She'd have your head for certain."

Elyan leaned over to look at Gwaine. "You'd better not let her ladyship catch you dancing with that young lady either. You know she sees you as a bad influence on her young ladies."

Gwaine's eyes widened for the briefest moment, and he gulped; he had forgotten that the old hag had forbidden him to come near Wynne. Still, he found in Elyan's warning a straw to grasp at. "Well, Lady Magdalen has nothing to fear. You all know I prefer the company of a tavern maiden to a sweet, innocent girl." Ordinarily when he bragged of his conquests, the others either listened with envy or tried to hide their admiration of his prowess, but this day, his companions looked at him with ill-concealed doubt. He forced a smile and drained his goblet before continuing, "A buxom tavern maiden whose kisses flow as freely as mead, one who warms my bed by night and is gone before the morning; that's what I like." He brought his goblet down on the table with a thump before pushing himself to his feet. "Now if you boys will excuse me…"

As he left the dining hall, he paused ever so slightly to nod curtly to Wynne, wanting to give her a word of encouragement before her dreaded dance lesson, but conscious of his companions' eyes on him. Sir Leon's sharp eyes caught their brief exchange and he chuckled, low, "How long will it take him to admit he's lost his heart to a certain charming but clumsy young lady?"

Percival snorted and replied, "Never! Gwaine will find a new wench the next tavern we visit and Wynne will be just another broken heart." Gwaine and Percival were good friends, but Percival knew his companion's reputation, and he didn't see it changing anytime soon.

Elyan's countenance darkened as he brought his fist down on the table and threatened, "He'll have a broken neck if he breaks her heart." Elyan was as fiercely protective of Wynne as he had once been of his sister. "The gods know Wynne is besotted with Gwaine, and she would be devastated to see him with another."

"I fear it wouldn't be an easy courtship," Leon predicted. He lowered his voice and continued, "But mark my words, he'll make his feelings for her known by the ladies' Presentation Ball." Percival and Elyan exchanged doubtful looks, but Leon grinned knowingly, as though he were certain how it would turn out.

What none of the knights noticed was that while most of the squires had long since lost interest in the conversation, one had been listening intently and had caught some key points of their discussion. _So Wynne is besotted with Gwaine, is she?_ Reginald thought. _And there is a chance that Gwaine may feel the same way. This definitely has possibilities_.

Meanwhile, Wynne was seated next to Anora at the ladies' table. Neither girl had eaten much, Anora still smiling inside and out after her blissful walk with Boris, and Wynne still floating on a cloud after dancing with Gwaine. As she pushed the stew around in her bowl, she tried to gaze inconspicuously at Gwaine across the way. She observed, though could not hear, the knights' conversation, and she guessed by Gwaine's uncomfortable demeanor that Leon and Percival had told the others what they had seen in the courtyard, and now they were ribbing him. Wynne felt guilty for being the cause of his discomfort, but at the same time, she was glad that none of the ladies had seen them. Gwaine and the other knights had the bond of friendship, so at least he knew their jests were not mean-spirited. That would not be the case if most of the ladies had seen them dancing.

She had just taken a bite of her sweet roll when Gwaine abruptly stood up to leave the dining hall. The determined expression on his face as he strode quickly towards the door told her that he was in a hurry to get out of the castle. Still, he paused to catch her eye, and then he gave her a smile and a quick nod before he headed out the door.

Anora wasn't too lost in her own reverie to notice the brief but meaningful exchange, nor did she miss the way Wynne propped her head on her fist and gazed after him as he left the room. She wondered what, if anything, had happened between them after she and Boris had taken their leave before lunch, and she wondered if and when Wynne would confide her feelings.

Fortunately for Wynne, formal dance lessons that day weren't as awful as they had been the previous afternoon. Lady Retta saw to it that Wynne and Reginald were not paired together. That made things easier for everyone but Lavinia, who had the displeasure of Reginald's company for the afternoon. Seeing her scowl more than made up for Wynne having to dance with Theobold, a tall, lanky squire with shaggy red hair and sweaty palms. Theobold was nice enough, but he was so quiet that he made Sir Percival seem talkative, and he was such a rule-follower that he made Sir Leon seem undisciplined. At least he didn't make a scene when Wynne stumbled or tramped on his toes, which she still did more often than the other ladies, but Lady Magdalen's attention was not drawn to her as much as it was the previous afternoon.

Wynne noticed that Sir Percival was not as accomplished a dancer as Gwaine, but neither was he a clumsy lout, as Gwaine had suggested. He was less animated and less vocal than Gwaine, although he did his part and watched the squires–especially Reginald–like a hawk and called out advice when needed. Because she wasn't as concerned with impressing Percival, Wynne wasn't as afraid of making mistakes, so she wasn't as tense. She smiled as she recalled the extra lesson she had just had with Gwaine, which had obviously helped her. Without thinking, she glanced up at Theobold and found him smiling hopefully down at her. _Oh no_, she thought, her cheeks flushing. _I hope he didn't think I was smiling at him_. Not wanting to encourage him, she kept her eyes trained blankly over his shoulder and her expression dispassionate for the remainder of the lesson.

When the lesson was over, Wynne breathed a sigh of relief as Lady Magdalen hurried out of the room, obviously to meet with the queen and Berte one last time before the great feast. As the other young ladies and squires began to trickle out of the room, Wynne sat down on a bench to wait for Anora, who was standing close to Boris, smiling sweetly up at him and talking softly with him. Wynne propped her chin on her fists and stared at them enviously, wishing that Gwaine would speak with her that way. Suddenly a voice next to her startled her out of her musing. "Wynne, I thought you danced so much better today."

Wynne looked up to see Lady Retta smiling encouragingly down at her. "Oh," she replied. "Thank you, Lady Retta. It helped that I didn't have to dance with Reginald." She couldn't help making an expression of distaste as she said his name.

Lady Retta laughed merrily and replied, low, "Yes, I had a feeling you and he were quite the mismatch yesterday." She turned serious once more. "But it is quite obvious that you were practicing, and I am very pleased with your progress."

Percival choked a laugh into a cough, and both ladies looked up at him, Lady Retta with curiosity, and Wynne with anxiety. He caught Wynne's eye, and seeing her discomfort, he quickly fibbed, "Sorry. Just thinking about…Reginald being a clotpole…at practice today."

Wynne knew that he was covering for her, and she smiled gratefully at him before looking away quickly. Suddenly seeing that Boris and Anora had parted, she excused herself and hurried to Anora's side. Percival, too, hastily buckled on his sword and was prepared to leave when Lady Retta laid a hand on his arm. "Percival, you're such a dear. Was it you who practiced with Wynne? She really did dance much better today."

Percival's eyes widened in surprise. Lady Retta thought he had been dancing with Wynne? Without thinking, he blurted out, "No, no, that was Gwaine. He…" Realizing he had unwittingly betrayed Wynne's confidence, he stopped and looked pleadingly down at Lady Retta.

It was Lady Retta's turn to stare in surprise. Her expression was indecipherable as she replied, "Gwaine? Gwaine took the time to practice with Wynne? How unlike him…"

Percival returned her look uncertainly. Was she upset with him? With Gwaine? "I…I'm sure he doesn't want anyone else to know…"

Laughing out loud, Lady Retta responded, "I'm sure he doesn't." Seeing Percival's discomfort, she reached up and touched his cheek. "I will say nothing," she promised. "I was merely taken by surprise that Gwaine would offer to do something he so dislikes when there was nothing in it for him."

As the two friends left the ballroom together, they didn't notice another pair having an intense discussion. After the others had left following the lesson, Reginald had dashed after Lavinia and stopped her before she went through the door. "Lavinia, might I have a word?"

Bronwyn, who was walking with Lavinia, let out a huff and continued out the door as Lavinia rolled her eyes and responded disdainfully, "Really, Reginald, I've just spent the last hour dancing with you. What could you possibly need to say that couldn't be said then"

Reginald grinned maliciously, glancing over towards Wynne, who was walking out the door with Anora. "I merely heard an interesting piece of news about a certain young lady who doesn't know her place."

Lavinia followed Reginald's gaze and saw that he was looking at Wynne and Anora. Anora was about as sweet as anyone could possibly be, and she was quite proper and knew her place, so Lavinia knew he must have been talking about Wynne. A slow smile spread across her face as she asked, "What piece of news is that? It must be incriminating as well as interesting if it caught your attention."

Reginald ignored the ill-concealed barb and crossed his arms to look down at her. "Oh, it is. It is definitely something she wants no one to know of. I doubt even Anora knows of it." When Lavinia cocked her head in a silent challenge for him to prove it, he slowly stroked his stubbly attempt at a beard and continued, "It seems that Wynne is quite smitten with Sir Gwaine, and judging by the way he always comes to her rescue when she finds herself in trouble, the feeling may be mutual."

"Ugh, she fancies that uncouth lout?" Lavinia exclaimed with a shudder of disgust, before tossing her head and continuing, "We'll, that's hardly surprising. She isn't much of a lady, so her taste is hardly refined." She narrowed her eyes at him and asked, "So why are you telling me this?"

Reginald narrowed his eyes back at her, thinking about the way Wynne had humiliated him in front of the other squires, and how Gwaine had taken her part and had also made sport of him, not once, but a number of times. "I merely thought that since neither of us is particularly friendly with either of them, it might be fun to cause a rift between them."

A slow smile spread across Lavinia's face. The very thought of stirring things up where Wynne was concerned was always pleasing to her. Nodding slowly, she replied, "What exactly did you have in mind?"


	10. Chapter 10: Drawings and Discord

**In this chapter, one of Wynne's finest talents leads to Lavinia discovering Wynne's love for Gwaine. An unlikely alliance forms between Lavinia and Reginald, which will lead to some serious implications for Wynne and Gwaine.**

Several days went by before either had a chance to formulate a plan, but one day, just after the ladies' drawing lesson, Lavinia got her chance. It all began pleasantly enough as Wynne sat in the courtyard, sketching in her large sketchbook. Drawing was another of Wynne's favorite lessons, since it was a skill that came quite naturally to her. The only downfall to drawing lessons, at least for Wynne, was that Lady Magdalen only taught them how to draw landscapes and still-lifes, which Wynne had mastered right away. So adept was Wynne at drawing plants that Gaius had set her to work making illustrations of herbs and medicinal plants for a book that he was compiling.

Still, bored and wanting more of a challenge, Wynne had set herself to learning how to draw people. She had a number of drawings of herself that she had done sitting in front of her mirror at night, as well as some quick sketches of Anora and Berte. But the drawing she had worked hardest on, and the one she was most proud of, was a portrait of Gwaine. She had drawn him with the expression she loved most, the half smile he gave her when he teased her. She had captured his essence so well that she got chills looking at it, and she smiled and kissed the picture every time she opened her sketchbook to that page.

On this particular afternoon, she sat in the bright courtyard by the solarium, putting some finishing touches on her portrait, when Lavinia came out the solarium door. She saw Wynne deep in concentration, smiling giddily as she sketched. Knowing by her expression that Wynne wasn't drawing flowers and trees, Lavinia crept over to investigate. Wynne was completely unaware of Lavinia's presence until a voice right next to her exclaimed, "Is that a picture of Sir Gwaine?"

Wynne gasped and tried to hide her drawing, but it was no use; Lavinia had already seen it. She attempted to make light of it, saying, "It's nothing. It's just…just a quick…sketch."

Lavinia wrestled it from Wynne's grasp and looked closely at it. Even though she did not like Wynne, and liked Gwaine even less, Wynne's drawing was so well-done that it took her breath away. Suddenly, she recalled Reginald's suggestion to cause a rift between them, and she had a sudden inspiration how she would do it. She raised her eyes to Wynne's and laughed mockingly, "You're in love with Sir Gwaine, aren't you?"

Wynne's eyes widened anxiously, and she began trembling. Her worst fears were being realized, and she was trapped. She knew that denying it was no use; her words would fall on deaf ears. Her chest heaving, she ground out, "Just give it back, Lavinia."

"Not till you admit you love him," Lavinia taunted, waving the sketchbook just out of Wynne's reach. "Admit you love him, or say you don't."

Fighting back tears, and fighting the urge to punch Lavinia right in her turned up nose, Wynne growled, "I will not. Just. Give. It. Back."

Holding the sketchbook behind her back and laughing, she sing-songed, "Wynne loves Gwaine, Wynne loves Gwaine." Craning her neck to look behind Wynne, she said, "Is that Gwaine? Sir Gwaine, Sir Gwaine, look what Wynne drew. She l-o-v-e-s you!"

Wynne whirled around, afraid Gwaine was right behind her, not knowing what she'd say if he were. Thankfully, Lavinia was only bluffing; Gwaine was nowhere in sight. She whirled back around to face a laughing Lavinia. "That's not funny, Lavinia. Give me my sketchbook!"

"Say it," Lavinia sneered, inching closer to the solarium door. "Say you love him, or say you don't."

Wynne knew it didn't matter what she said; Lavinia would twist it to suit whatever mean game she was playing. Still, she would never admit to her that she loved Gwaine. In a choked voice, she said, "I…I don't love…Gwaine." Saying the words that she knew weren't true made her burn inside, and she knew she didn't sound at all convincing.

Lavinia laughed and held up the picture of Gwaine. Making a kissy face, she retorted, "This picture says otherwise. How could you draw that face if you didn't love him?"

"I don't…love him," Wynne insisted, sounding even less convincing than before. "I don't."

"Then prove it," Lavinia hissed. "Prove you don't love him."

Wynne didn't like where this was headed. If she refused to do whatever vile thing she asked, it would just be proof that she did love Gwaine. Finally, she stammered, "H-how?"

A slow, malicious smile spread across Lavinia's face as she considered what Wynne would do. She glanced down at the drawing. She could tell Wynne to destroy it. That would hurt Wynne, but it would do nothing to cause a rift between her and Gwaine. A sudden inspiration struck her, and she smirked at Wynne and challenged, "Draw another picture of Gwaine, but this time, make it ugly. Make it mean. Draw a picture that proves you have no feelings for him." She thrust the notebook at Wynne and commanded coldly, "Do it now."

Wynne snatched her sketchbook back and glared at Lavinia. She considered making a run for it, but she was certain that if she didn't do as Lavinia asked…"Do it now, or I'll tell everyone you're in love with Gwaine."

Knowing she was trapped, Wynne sat down slowly and thought for a moment how she could portray Gwaine in a disparaging light. She couldn't bear to be truly mean–like drawing him completely bald or wearing a dress–but maybe poking a bit of fun at him would be enough to satisfy Lavinia. Painfully conscious of Lavinia's eyes on her, she racked her brain for an idea. At last, she came up with something and began quickly sketching a caricature of Gwaine stealing an apple pie from the kitchens and a large tankard of mead from the tavern. He was running from an angry Lady Magdalen, who was throwing apples at his head, as well as from a tavern keeper, who waved a piece of paper as he pursued Gwaine.

Lavinia watched with stunned fascination as Wynne rapidly sketched the scene in her book. The scene that unfolded was so humorous that Lavinia had to fight to keep from laughing, and much to her irritation, she found herself feeling guilty about her plan to use this clever drawing against Wynne.

When she finished, a steely-eyed Wynne held out the sketchbook so Lavinia could see it. Lavinia was so impressed with Wynne's talent and imagination that she almost forgot to harass her. After a moment, she hardened her expression and handed the drawing back to Wynne. "Humorous, yes, but how does this prove you don't love him?"

Wynne gulped. She had anticipated that question and had been thinking about how to answer it. She tried unsuccessfully to harden her expression as she answered, "Everyone knows Gwaine is…an insufferable mooch. He's always sneaking into the kitchens for a snack. And he's always at the tavern, but he seldom pays his tabs." She slammed the book shut and glared at Lavinia. "Do you really think I'd say those things about him if I were in love with him?"

Lavinia returned Wynne's look doubtfully. She knew Wynne would go no further in putting Gwaine down, but she wouldn't let her off the hook that easily. "I'm still not convinced that you're not in love with him, but I suppose it will do…for now." She rose and stalked away, turning to give Wynne a condescending look. In her mind, she was trying to figure out how to get her hands on that drawing before Wynne destroyed it.

After Lavinia had gone, Wynne let her head sink into her hands and let out a shaky sigh. How could she have been so careless? She was certain that Lavinia would watch like a hawk to catch her talking to Gwaine, looking for proof that she loved him. She knew that her drawing had not convinced her that she didn't love Gwaine, and she wondered what she might do next.

For the second time that afternoon, Wynne was so consumed by her thoughts that she didn't hear someone approaching till a voice spoke right in her ear. "Wynne, are you all right?" Wynne gasped and snatched up her sketchbook before realizing it was only Anora. Anora sat down next to Wynne and laid her hand on her friend's shoulder. Seeing the look on her face, Anora asked worriedly, "What happened? What's wrong?"

Wynne drew a shaky breath that did nothing to stop the rising tears. Unable to speak for a moment, she picked up her sketchbook and slowly opened it to the picture of Gwaine–the good picture of Gwaine. "Lavinia saw this," she sniffled, showing the drawing to Anora. "She said this drawing proves I'm in love with him, and she said she'd tell everyone unless I prove to her that I'm not."

Anora took the sketchbook, and her eyes flew open wide when she saw the drawing. "I can see why she thought that," she breathed in awe. When Wynne gasped aloud, she quickly said, "I'm sorry, Wynne. It's just that…this is so beautiful, and so like him. You've captured so much detail…" Her brows came together curiously. "How did she want you to prove you didn't love him?"

Wynne fumbled with the pages of her sketchbook before responding, "She wanted me to draw a mean, ugly picture of him."

Anora looked down at the sketchbook. "Well, did you?"

"Sort of," Wynne replied, flipping through the pages to the caricature. "I couldn't bear to draw something truly awful."

Anora looked at the picture and immediately began giggling. "I don't mean to laugh, Wynne, but this is so funny," she chortled. "You know Gwaine loves apple pie and ale, and I could just see Lady Magdalen throwing something at him." Even Wynne couldn't resist giggling for a moment. Then Anora turned serious again. "Was this enough to convince her?"

"I don't think so, although she seemed to be satisfied, at least for now," Wynne said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

Anora met her friend's eyes and asked softly, "Wynne, do you? Love Gwaine, I mean?"

Wynne's eyes widened for a moment, and she looked trapped. Finally she answered, "I'm sorry, Anora. I should have told you, but I was afraid you'd think I was silly. After all, he's a knight, and I'm nothing but a girl. A silly, clumsy girl."

Anora grabbed Wynne into a tight hug."Wynne, I'm your friend. I don't think you're silly for falling in love with a knight.," Anora assured her. "And you won't be just a girl much longer. Soon you'll…we'll be ladies. It will be different then; you'll see."

The two friends soon headed into the castle to get ready for the evening meal. Wynne tossed her sketchbook onto her table, intending to destroy the Gwaine caricature later that evening. She hurriedly washed her tear-stained face and scrubbed the charcoal smudges off her hands before heading down to the main dining hall.

Had she known that Lavinia was lurking just around the corner, Wynne would have either destroyed the drawing right away or taken care to lock the sketchbook in her trunk. As soon as Wynne left, Lavinia crept into the room, found the drawing, and deftly removed it from the sketchbook. For just a moment, she considered taking the portrait of Gwaine as well, but her conscience stopped her. She made sure the hallway was clear before she left the room and quietly shut the door behind her.

Downstairs, Lavinia waited by the dining hall entrance until Reginald came hurrying down the passageway with Boris and a couple other squires. She caught his eye and smiled conspiratorially; he motioned for the others to go ahead while he spoke with Lavinia. Only Boris eyed them with suspicion, knowing the two weren't particularly friendly, and wondered what they were up to.

When the two were alone, Lavinia pulled the caricature out of her skirt pocket and handed it to Reginald. "It turns out that Wynne is quite the talented artist." She related how she had discovered Wynne sketching a beautiful portrait of Gwaine and taunted her about being in love with him, and then she explained her plan to make sure that Gwaine saw the picture and knew who had drawn it. "You know how vain he is," Lavinia sneered. "I'm sure he won't stand for being made light of, especially not by someone he considers a friend."

Reginald glanced down at the drawing, and like Lavinia, was quite impressed by Wynne's obvious talent. He recovered his unpleasant nature quickly and said to Lavinia, "Yes, this does show brave Sir Gwaine in quite an unflattering light, but I think it needs just a bit of…something." After thinking for a moment, an evil smile spread across his face, and he continued, "And I know exactly what that something is. We simply need to wait for the right time, and we'll plant the seeds of discord between Gwaine and this not-quite lady." With that, he folded the drawing and tucked it inside his chain mail, and the two conspirators went into the dining hall


	11. Chapter 11: The Heart Afraid of Breaking

**Things begin to get complicated for Wynne and, unbeknownst to him, Gwaine as Wynne's untried heart is inadvertently broken by the one she loves. Of course, this gives Lavinia and Reginald an idea to further sow discord. Thanks to all who have reviewed, and I promise, things won't be bad forever.**

Directly after the evening meal, Lady Magdalen gathered the young ladies in the solarium to discuss the visit by the North kings that was only days away. "I am certain that I needn't remind you that only a few months hence, you will all…" She cast a doubtful glance in Wynne's direction. "You will all be presented as eligible young ladies. This feast will be an opportunity for each of you to display your skills and demonstrate your suitability and your readiness for marriage. The queen, Berte, Lady Retta and I have arranged for each of you to demonstrate your strongest skills for the marriageable gentlemen who will be present."

Wynne leaned close to Anora and whispered, "I know what skills I won't be demonstrating."

Anora stifled giggle as Lady Magdalen pulled out a sheet of paper and continued, "Anora, Bronwyn and Rosalynde, you have excelled in your singing lessons, so you will sing for the delegation after the feast."

Bronwyn and Rosalynde exchanged a panicked glance, while Anora flushed pink with pleasure but was otherwise unflustered. Wynne beamed at her friend, excited that she would have the chance to show off her angelic voice.

Lady Magdalen continued, "Bernice and Caitlyn, you will play the harp during the feast, and Lavinia and Priscilla, I would like you to lead the dancing after the feast." She lowered her paper and looked at them gravely. "You will be paired with Reginald and Chadwick; I trust you can sort out who will dance with whom." Wynne bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. Even Lady Magdalen knew that Reginald was not easily tolerated.

"I shall dance with Chadwick," Priscilla said quickly, raising her chin and daring Lavinia to challenge her. The tension between the two that had been increasing over the past weeks was becoming obvious to all, including Lady Magdalen.

After a moment's indignation, Lavinia suddenly recalled the plot against Wynne that the two of them had hatched, and she realized that this pairing would be advantageous. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, she narrowed her eyes at Priscilla and feigned disgust before tossing her head disdainfully and replying, "Fine. I shall dance with Reginald."

Lady Magdalen smiled at Lavinia. "Thank you, Lavinia. That was very gracious of you." Lavinia waited until Lady Magdalen looked away and then smirked at Priscilla, whose cheeks flushed angrily. "Now then, that leaves Theresa and Wynifred. Because you ladies are so adept in the kitchens, you will help plan and prepare the food for the feast." That announcement drew titters from some of the other young ladies, but Wynne didn't care. She wasn't at all interested in showcasing her skills for possible suitors; she knew who she wanted, and she knew that the best way to hold Gwaine's attention was with a perfect apple pie. While the others chattered, Wynne was already planning how to alter her apple pie recipe so she could make a fancy braided apple tart.

After Lady Magdalen dismissed the ladies, Anora, Bronwyn and Rosalynde huddled together, talking about what songs they would sing for the feast. Wynne decided to take a quick stroll around the grounds before the sun went down. She headed out into the courtyard and took the path into the woods, picking wildflowers and wild herbs as she went.

As Wynne came around to where the path split, the sound of conversation drew her attention over to the big oak tree by the moat, where she often liked to sit and draw. What she saw there made her stop dead in her tracks and let her flowers fall to the ground. There beneath the oak tree–_her_ big oak tree–sat Gwaine and Lady Retta. Gwaine's arms were wrapped tightly around Lady Retta, and Lady Retta had her head resting on Gwaine's chest. As Wynne watched, Gwaine reached up and gently stroked Lady Retta's face. Wynne suddenly felt sick to her stomach, and her chest tightened unbearably so that she could hardly breathe.

Wynne was torn between running back to the castle and staying there and watching. The decision was made when Gwaine threw his head back and laughed, and then pulled Lady Retta closer. She looked up at him and laughed too, before saying something to him. Wynne caught the words, "…terrible dancer," and her jaw dropped. Were they talking about her? She had to find out.

Leaving her flowers where they had fallen, she stealthily followed the wooded path that ran parallel to the moat until she was only feet from the oak tree. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she couldn't help herself; she had to hear what they were saying. Lady Retta's voice floated on the breeze to Wynne's ears. "…always was as clumsy as an ox."

Gwaine laughed and responded, "She remains the worst dance partner I have ever had. My feet still ache whenever I think of dancing with her."

Wynne had to bite down on her knuckle to keep from crying out. Clumsy as an ox? The worst dance partner Gwaine had ever had? They were certainly talking about her. She recalled Gwaine's expression as they'd danced just days ago. She had thought it was a look of enjoyment, but now she saw that it had been a look of pain because of her clumsiness.

Wynne didn't want to hear anymore, but she could not stop listening. Lady Retta's next words made her heart leap into her throat. "…in love with you." Oh no! How had Lady Retta found out? How would Gwaine respond?

Gwaine's response drove a dagger deep into Wynne's young, untried heart. "Ugh, it was so obvious…" What? Even he knew? "…sweet girl, but I could never love her like that. I would rather court you…"

That was enough. Wynne let out a strangled cry and dashed down the path towards the courtyard, not caring if they heard her. Her sobs made it hard for her to breathe as she ran, and her hot tears blinded her as she crashed through the underbrush.

In the courtyard, a small group of knights and squires was taking advantage of the warm evening to practice archery. Elyan, Leon, and Percival had teamed up against Boris, Reginald and Chadwick to see who could make the most bullseyes. A round of ale at the tavern was riding on Chadwick's final shot.

Just as Chadwick was about to release his arrow, Wynne burst out of the woods, still sobbing, and dashed across the courtyard towards the castle. Boris leapt to his feet and called out, "Wynne? Wynne, what's wrong?"

Leon and Percival, too, jumped to their feet and exchanged a look of concern. Percival asked, "Do you think something attacked her in the woods? Should we check it out?"

Leon nodded tersely and drew his sword. "Let's go," he said, heading purposefully into the woods, followed closely by Elyan and Percival.

"Do you think something frightened her?" Chadwick asked, his bow and arrow still in his hand.

Boris stood perplexed, his eyes darting between the woods and the solarium door."I don't know," he responded doubtfully. "Not much frightens Wynne, certainly not snakes or many of the other animals she'd encounter in the woods."

"I hope Wynne will be all right," Reginald said in a voice laced with false concern.

Boris turned to glare at Reginald, knowing he didn't mean a word of what he just said. "You know, if you hadn't been here with us since the evening meal, I might think you had something to do with it."

Reginald's hand flew to his chest, and he feigned hurt. "Why, Boris, I'm insulted. Why would I want to make your cousin cry?"

Boris narrowed his eyes at Reginald, but before he could say anything, the knights emerged from the woods. Elyan announced, "We saw nothing in the woods that would have frightened her, and there are no signs of an intruder in Camelot."

"Welll, obviously something upset the girl," Percival replied, his brows knit with concern.

Just then, Gwaine and Lady Retta came strolling out of the woods a few yards from where they all stood. Leon saw them first and called out, "Gwaine! Have you seen Wynne in the past half hour?"

Gwaine and Lady Retta stopped and exchanged a worried glance and hurried over to the others. "No, I haven't seen her since we left the dining hall," Gwaine responded. "Has she gone missing?"

"No," Leon said, scratching his head thoughtfully. "She just came charging out of the woods, crying her eyes out. We thought something had frightened her, but we found nothing." Gwaine laid a hand on Lady Retta's shoulder, and it suddenly occurred to Leon that Wynne must have seen the two of them together. "You didn't…see or hear anything, did you?"

Gwaine and Lady Retta exchanged a concerned look, and then both shook their heads. "We were sitting by the big oak tree, talking," Gwaine responded. "We heard nothing unusual." He glanced at Lady Retta once more. "Perhaps I should go speak with the lass…"

"Gwaine, I don't think…you should," Leon faltered. Gwaine turned to look at him curiously, Leon continued, "I mean, perhaps Boris should ask Anora to speak to her." He looked to Percival and Elyan for support.

The other two knights reached the same realization that Leon had, and both struggled to hide their smirks. Gwaine didn't miss their amusement. "What's going on? What's so funny? Are you having me on?"

Elyan glanced at Percival and quickly replied, "Not at all, Gwaine. We were…simply imagining what would happen if you'd run into Lady Magdalen in the ladies' quarters." Gwaine's expression suggested that he hadn't thought of that. "I believe Leon is correct. Anora should speak with her."

Gwaine nodded his agreement, and Boris hurried off to find Anora. Shortly after Boris headed into the castle, Reginald also left the little group. He had also made the connection between Gwaine and Lady Retta being together and Wynne being upset, and he had to tell Lavinia of this new development.

Half an hour later, Wynne lay curled up on her bed, her sobs spent, but silent tears still coursing down her cheeks and the occasional hiccough still shaking her body. Lying beside her was her sketchbook, opened to the drawing of Gwaine. She played his words, and Lady Retta's, over and over in her mind, unable to believe he had said those things. Her mind swam with so many emotions. She was positively mortified that he had somehow found out that she loved him, and devastated that he'd said he could never love her. She was angry; he was supposed to be her friend, so why was he saying such things behind her back? And she loved him; heaven help her, she still loved him. Her tears began anew as she hugged the sketchbook to her.

Wynne heard a soft knock at her door. She jumped, wondering who it could be. "Wynne? Wynne, are you in there?" She relaxed and let out a breath; it was only Anora. Still, she didn't feel like talking to anyone, so she did her best to silence her sobs. Maybe Anora would go away if she thought Wynne was asleep or not there. "Wynne, please talk to me. Let me help you." _You can't help me_, Wynne silently responded. _Not unless you can make Gwaine love me and take away my clumsiness_.

Anora waited for several minutes, knocking and pleading with Wynne to open the door. She considered trying the door to see if it was locked, but she didn't want to intrude that way. She was just about to give up when she had a sudden inspiration. "Wynne, if you won't talk to me, will you talk to Gwaine? Should I go find him?" She stifled a giggle as she heard a sudden scuffling in the room, followed by footsteps approaching the door. She managed to swallow her smile just before the door flew open.

"Don't get Gwaine," Wynne pleaded, grasping Anora's hand, pulling her inside and slamming the door. "I can't talk to him," she sniffled. "I may never talk to him again."

Anora's eyes widened in shock as both girls sat down on Wynne's bed. "What do you mean you may never talk to him again? What happened?"

Wynne took a deep breath and told Anora everything–how she had happened upon Gwaine and Lady Retta sitting together, their jokes about her inability to dance, and worst of all, that Gwaine knew of her love for him but did not feel the same. "How will I ever face him again, knowing that he knows how I feel…and can never feel the same?"

"Well, are you sure they were talking about you? They could have been discussing someone else," Anora offered uncertainly. She cast a doubtful glance at Wynne, hoping she might take comfort in that.

Wynne wasn't convinced. To her knowledge, Gwaine hadn't danced with any of the other young ladies, and in any case, none of them was as clumsy as she was. "No, I'm certain they were talking about me. Everyone knows I'm as graceful as a horse up a tree." Anora couldn't help giggling. Even with a broken heart, Wynne's wit shone through. Wynne looked at her friend and smiled a watery smile before her face fell once more. "Truly, I could bear knowing they'd said those things if I hadn't seen them all…cuddled up together like…like lovers." Tears began falling again.

Anora put her arm around Wynne's shoulders, thinking. "I just can't imagine Lady Retta and Gwaine together. She's so proper, and he's…" Wynne glanced up at Anora, wordlessly warning her not to criticize Gwaine. Anora smiled, understanding. "He's just…not. They seem mismatched."

"Well, opposites do attract, as they say," Wynne mumbled, still seeing the two lovers embracing beneath the oak tree. She doubted she'd ever sit there to draw again.

Anora wouldn't be dissuaded. "Yes, but birds of a feather flock together. I still can't believe they're courting; truly, they just don't act as though they're sweet on each other."

While Wynne and Anora continued to discuss the likelihood of romance between Gwaine and Lady Retta, in another part of the castle, another unlikely pair was scheming. Reginald had tracked down Lavinia and was telling her what had occurred in the courtyard. "Wynne came barreling out of the woods only yards from where Gwaine and Lady Retta emerged minutes later. Judging by poor Wynnie's distress, I would guess that she saw them together and knows that her beloved loves someone else."

Lavinia put down her needlework and looked up at Reginald. "Why would Gwaine and Lady Retta be together? I know for certain that she is being courted by Lord Reuben."

Reginald sneered and rolled his eyes. "It matters not if they really are courting, as long as Wynne believes it to be so. This would be the perfect time to sow a bit of discord in Gwaine's corner by showing him what the little shrew drew, now, wouldn't it?"

Lavinia smiled conspiratorially at Reginald. This was going to be fun, and just in time for the feast honoring the North kings' visit.


	12. Chapter 12: The Plan Is Working

**Lavinia and Reginald put the next phase of their plan into effect, with pleasing results. The seeds of doubt are sown in Gwaine's mind as to Wynne's loyalty as a friend. Wynne, too, continues to anguish over her unrequited love and her perceived failures as a proper young lady.**

The beginning of a very difficult few weeks for Wynne began the next afternoon during dance lessons. She was still so upset over what she'd overheard that she could hardly watch Lady Retta and Gwaine leading the lesson. As a result, she missed much of the instruction and was even clumsier than usual. Lady Magdalen's voice became raspy from having to correct Wynne at every turn, and it seemed that every eye in the room was focused on her. Even easy-going Theobold became irritable with her as she tramped on his toes repeatedly. Wynne could hardly wait for the lesson to be over so that she could escape into the solace of the woods.

Wynne's hasty departure gave Reginald and Lavinia the freedom to enact their heartless plan. After the others had dispersed, the two schemers went outside into the courtyard to wait for Gwaine. Reginald pulled out Wynne's comical drawing, to which he had added some dialog that poked fun at the dark-haired knight. Above the pursuing tavern owner, he had written the words, _Come back here and pay what you owe, you freeloader_. Above Lady Magdalen, he had written, _Stay out of the kitchens and away from my young ladies, you insolent cur_. Above Gwaine, he had written, _Stop throwing apples. You're mussing my perfect hair_. Beneath the whole scene, he had scrawled, _Sir Gwaine, a not-so-gallant knight_. "This should stir up a bit of enmity between them, don't you think?" Reginald asked.

Lavinia quickly read over Reginald's additions and laughed with wicked glee. "Oh, you've captured the lout so well. I can't wait to see his reaction."

A moment later, Gwaine came out of the castle, heading towards the training grounds. They waited till he was close enough to hear their conversation; then, pretending they hadn't seen him, Lavinia said, "I can't believe Wynne would do such a thing. I thought she and Gwaine were friends."

Reginald clucked his tongue and replied, "I fear that Wynne isn't as loyal a friend as he believes her to be."

Of course, Gwaine heard his name mentioned, as well as Wynne's, so he approached them to investigate. It occurred to him that Lavinia and Reginald seemed to be an unlikely pair, but curiosity over hearing his name mentioned won out over his suspicion. "What's this about Wynne not being a loyal friend?"

Reginald and Lavinia both pretended to be startled and shuffled the drawing back and forth between them before Reginald hid it ineffectively behind his back. Exchanging a guilty look with Lavinia, he stammered, "Oh, nothing…nothing…at all…truly…"

Gwaine narrowed his eyes at them. Either they were up to something, or they were truly hiding something. He cocked his head, trying to see what was on the sheet of paper that was still visible behind Reginald's back. "What have you got there?" he asked, taking a step towards the squire and reaching for the paper.

Reginald thrust it at Lavinia, who thrust it back at him. "It's…just some scribbling…" He and Lavinia continued scuffling with the paper until Gwaine intercepted it.

"If it's nothing, then you won't mind if I have a look, hmm?" Gwaine said irritably, eyeing them warily as he unfolded the paper. He studied it for a moment, and his features darkened. Reginald and Lavinia struggled to hide their smirks; Gwaine was falling for it, just as they'd known he would. "What is this?" he demanded. "Who drew this?"

Lavinia lowered her eyes demurely and responded hesitantly, "Wynne…left her sketchbook open…and I saw that she had…drawn this. I confess…I stole it."

"Lavinia mentioned it to me during dance lessons this morning. I could hardly believe it myself," Reginald added. "We were trying to decide how to break it to you."

Gwaine's expression was a mixture of anger and hurt pride. "I can't believe she would do something like this," he muttered, but then he recalled the way she'd acted during dance lessons this afternoon. She had avoided his gaze as much as possible, and the few times he did catch her eye, her eyes were cold and hard, and she'd looked away immediately. His mouth became a hard line as he folded the drawing, nodded curtly to Lavinia and Reginald, and stalked off, not noticing their triumphant smiles.

A couple hours later. Gwaine was at the tavern with Arthur, Merlin, and some of the other knights. If anyone noticed that the usually gregarious Gwaine was unusually quiet, no one said anything, at least not until Arthur, Elyan and Percival were engaged in dice games across the room. Gwaine, Leon and Merlin remained at their table with their tankards of ale. Merlin and Leon were chatting and laughing, and they suddenly became aware that Gwaine wasn't joining in. They regarded him for a moment and then exchanged a look; Gwaine was staring into his tankard with a pensive expression unfamiliar to the young knight. "Gwaine, are you all right?" Merlin ventured.

Gwaine started and looked up at his friends as though he had quite forgotten they were there. He shrugged noncommittally and replied, "Just thinking."

His companions exchanged another look before Leon took a swallow of his ale and joked, "You're not used to that kind of thinking. You'd better be careful, or you'll hurt yourself."

If he expected a laugh or a jovial response, he was disappointed. Gwaine grunted and barely glanced at his friend. Leon shook his head with concern and caught Merlin's eye. Merlin tried again. "Gwaine, what is it? Maybe it would help to talk about it."

Gwaine heaved a sigh, pushed his ale away and looked at his friends for a long moment. Then he reached inside his chain mail to pull out a folded piece of paper. His features darkened as he leaned back in his chair and tossed the paper on the table between Leon and Merlin. The two men looked at each other, and Merlin motioned for Leon to look at it first, which he did. As he perused the drawing, his lips began twitching. He covered his mouth and forced a laugh into a cough as he passed the paper to Merlin. A wide grin split his face as he saw the drawing for the first time. When he read the words Reginald had penned, he suddenly sputtered and burst out laughing, and Leon immediately followed suit.

Gwaine angrily snatched the paper back, cheeks flaming, and growled, "I'm glad you boys find it so amusing that this is what…someone I considered a friend thinks of me."

The two men struggled to rein in their laughter, and Leon glanced over at the others, who were still engaged in games of chance, and asked, "Gwaine, who are you referring to?"

"Not any of them," he replied irritably, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. He pursed his lips as though he were loath to tell them, and then ground out, "Wynne drew this."

"Wynne?" Leon exclaimed, grabbing the drawing once more and looking more closely at it. "I can't believe she would do this."

Merlin slid closer to look over Leon's shoulder, also examining the drawing more closely. He reluctantly admitted, "He may be right. Wynne has quite a knack for drawing plants and landscapes, but I never realized she could draw people too." He couldn't resist joking, "Although you have to admit, Gwaine; she's got you pegged."

Leon chuckled and nodded appreciatively, acknowledging the artist's skill, but he remained skeptical. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you come to be in possession of this, and how do you know Wynne drew it?"

Gwaine drained his tankard and raised hardened eyes to Leon's. "I came across Lavinia and Reginald with it this evening. Lavinia said she'd stolen it from Wynne's sketchbook. They were both questioning Wynne's loyalty if she'd draw something like this."

Leon and Merlin looked at each other in disbelief. "Lavinia and Reginald?" Merlin exclaimed, leaning forward to fix his eyes on Gwaine. "I can't think of two people I would trust less to know anything about Wynne. How do you even know they're telling the truth?"

Gwaine threw his hands up in frustration. "Merlin, you said yourself that Wynne is accomplished at drawing, and even as unkind as this is…it is quite well drawn." His eyes darkened as he continued, "Besides, she was quite distant with me during dance lessons this afternoon, and she's hardly spoken with me for days."

Leon clapped him on the shoulder and reassured, "Maybe you inadvertently upset her, and this is just her way of working through her hurt feelings." He was thinking of the incident of the previous day, when he suspected that Wynne had seen Gwaine and Lady Retta together. "I'm certain she never meant for anyone, least of all Lavinia and Reginald, to see this. You should talk to Wynne."

"Maybe so," Gwaine replied, not convinced. He stood and said to Leon and Merlin, "I'm going to head back to the castle. I'm really not in the mood to be here tonight."

His two companions exchanged a look of mixed amusement and concern that he was so bothered over a drawing. It was very unlike the fun-loving knight to become this upset over something this minute, and it just confirmed their suspicions that Gwaine was harboring more than friendship for Wynne but had not admitted it to himself yet. They were even more taken aback when Gwaine stopped on his way out the door and walked over to the barkeeper and paid his entire tab, leaving even the barkeeper staring after him in open-mouthed shock.

Back at the castle, Wynne, too, was having a less-than-pleasant night. She lay in her bed, staring out at the stars and waiting for sleep to come. The events of the past few days played over and over in her mind, making her more and more distraught. Against her better judgment, Anora had agreed to keep Wynne's confidence, not even telling Boris the details of the conversation Wynne had overheard. She had tried to convince Wynne to confront one or the other either to find out why they'd said such things or to clear up a possible misunderstanding, but if she did that, she would have had to admit to eavesdropping. Besides, she just couldn't bear to face Gwaine, knowing that he knew how she felt and didn't feel the same. And if he were courting Lady Retta, well, she couldn't bear to face her either.

It was with all these things in her mind that she finally fell into a fitful sleep full of disturbing dreams. In her dreams, her mother was still alive, and she and Wynne's father had come with the North kings to Camelot to assess her progress in her finishing lessons. As she feared she would in real life, in her dreams, she failed miserably at everything she tried to do.

_The first thing her mother did was to berate her for her appearance; her dress was stained and torn from catching frogs in the moat, and her hair was dripping with algae. Next, she attempted to embroider a tablecloth for the feast, but her needlework was such a mess of knots that her fingers became entangled in the threads, leaving the tablecloth attached to her hands. Then at dinner, she spilled everything that was set in front of her and managed to break several of Arthur's heirloom platters. Lady Retta made her sing for the North kings, making everyone in the Great Hall howl and cover their ears in protest. During the dancing, she tripped and stumbled and stepped on the toes of everyone she danced with._

_Even the things she usually did well turned into disasters. Her sketchbook was filled with childish scribbles and scrawls, except for the beautiful drawing of Gwaine which was hung in a prominent place in the Great Hall, with "Wynne loves Gwaine" scrawled across the top; everyone who saw it pointed at laughed at her folly. Next, Gaius and Merlin yelled at her for gathering poison ivy instead of lavender; everyone they had treated that day broke out in an itchy rash. She burned all the food she'd cooked and put onions instead of apples in all her pies._

_Worst of all, everyone was angry and disappointed in her. Lady Magdalen told her she'd never seen a more incompetent failure. Lady Retta told her she was a complete disappointment in dancing and singing. Berte told her that even the youngest stable hand could cook better than she could. Her parents told her she was a disgrace as a daughter, and she was no longer welcome to come home. Gwaine tore down the picture of himself and ripped it to shreds, laughing cruelly at her for thinking her could love an unladylike, clumsy ox like her. Then he and Lady Retta walked away arm in arm, laughing at her as she sobbed and held her arms out to Gwaine._

Wynne awoke early the next morning, tearful and in a panic. She tried to tell herself it was only a dream, but she couldn't help worrying. What if she failed so miserably in her duties that she shamed herself and Camelot, and what if the visiting delegation was so appalled by her ineptitude that they refused to make an alliance with King Arthur? And what if Gwaine really did laugh at her? Wynne sat bolt upright in bed and pushed herself against the wall. She drew the covers up to her chin and stared unblinking out at the predawn sky, waiting for the sun to come up.


	13. Chapter 13: Preparations

**Thanks you so much, everyone, for all the kind reviews. I deeply apologize for the long delay in my next chapter. It has been a very hectic summer. I have been working on another story, hopefully for publication, and that took precedence. I'm still slaving over that one, but needed a break, so I decided to post a Gwaine-Wynne chapter. I'm giving Wynne a much-needed break as well, before she runs into more trouble.**

The next two days were a blur of activity, not only for Wynne, but for everyone at the castle. The servants were busy scrubbing and polishing and laundering till every floor, window, chandelier, curtain, tablecloth, and piece of silver was shining, sparkling, crisp and clean. The kitchen staff was busy planning menus and checking the storehouses and cellars to make sure they had everything they needed to prepare feasts befitting the guests who would soon grace Camelot's tables. The knights had stepped up their training and were preparing to present themselves to the Northern kings and to perform in the tournaments.

The young ladies-in-training, too, were preparing for their parts. Anora, Bronwyn, and Rosalynde practiced their songs with Lady Retta till every note was perfect. Gaius prescribed them a tea rich with honey and spiced with lemon to keep their throats from getting raw. Bronwyn and Caitlyn practiced their harp tunes till their fingers blistered and had to be bandaged. Lavinia and Priscilla worked on new dances with Reginald and Chadwick, with Lady Retta and Gwaine giving instruction as their time allowed. Wynne and Theresa bustled around the kitchens with Berte and the servants, helping them plan menus and prepare food. Theresa was morose over being in the kitchens, fretting that she wouldn't be able to present herself to the eligible knights and young princes who would be among the delegation. Wynne hardly heard her complaints, however, as she was consumed with her own thoughts.

Berte had put Wynne in charge of desserts, thinking to display her greatest strength. In any other circumstance, Wynne would have been delighted, but following last night's awful dream, she was frantic with worry that it would come true. After a morning of stumbling uncharacteristically around the kitchen, bumping into people and knocking things over, Wynne lost her grip on a sack of flour and dropped it onto the floor. As it hit the floor, it burst open, covering the floor, Wynne, and two servant girls with a fine dusting of flour. As the servants hurried to clean up the mess, Wynne rushed to the storeroom, where she sat down against a barrel of pears, crying her eyes out, certain that her dream was coming true.

Meanwhile, Berte, hearing the commotion, came around the corner to see the servants sweeping up the spilled flour. A set of white footprints heading to the storeroom led her to a disconsolate Wynne huddled in the corner. Berte slid an empty crate over and sat down facing Wynne. "Wynne, child, what's troubling you? You're usually at home in the kitchens, but today you're as skittish as Sir Leon's horse on shoeing day. You're not that nervous about the visiting delegation, are you?"

Wynne looked up at Berte, unable to speak at first. Of all the people she was afraid of disappointing, Berte was near the top of the list; only Gwaine and her father were higher on that list. As Berte held her gaze, Wynne saw the tender concern, so like her mother's, and she knew she could tell the older woman anything. "Oh, Berte," she wailed. "I'm so afraid. What if I tear my dress and get moat scum all over me and hurt everyone's ears with my sining and hurt everyone's toes with my dancing and make onion pies instead of apple pies and spill everything at the feast and break all the dishes and…what if I'm a disgrace to Camelot and my father…and my mother's memory?" Tears began falling once more as she buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, my precious lass," Berte exclaimed in confusion, gathering her into a hug. "What is all this? Where are all these ideas coming from?"

Wynne sat up after a moment and explained, "I had a horrible nightmare, Berte." She quickly told Berte everything that had happened in her dream–well, everything except what happened with Gwaine. "What if it all comes true?"

Berte's jolly laugh rang out through the storeroom. "Wynne, my precious, is that what has you so upset? Just a dream? You know bad dreams are naught but the result of a full belly and a full mind at bedtime."

Hearing Berte's explanation made Wynne feel a bit better, but she still wasn't completely convinced. "But sometimes dreams come true," she persisted. "Even bad ones." When Berte gave her a doubtful look, she continued, "Everyone knows I'm clumsy, and I make a mess of everything. What if the entire delegation is so appalled by my clumsiness that they refuse to sign the treaty with King Arthur?"

"Oh, Wynifred!" Berte chided, laughing again. "I hope you're not silly enough or vain enough to believe that the fate of this treaty rests upon your accomplishments as a young lady-in-training! The most you could possibly do is ruin your chances to marry well." Wynne's eyes widened with panic as though Berte had just predicted the end of the world. Seeing that Wynne didn't realize she was only teasing, she amended, "Now, lass, I was only making a jest. No man would refuse to marry you just because you can't sing or dance or embroider a hanky. And if he does, then he's not worth a pile of pig dung."

Wynne relaxed a bit and even managed a giggle. "That's what Anora said too," she recalled. "Except she said nothing of pig dung."

"And a wise young lady she is," Berte replied, patting Wynne's cheek. "Wynne, lass, all you need to do is your best. Keep practicing those things you struggle with, but focus on the things you do well. Lady Magdalen is a hard taskmistress and is sparse with praise, but she does notice your successes. When the queen consulted her about planning a feast, your name was on her lips immediately because of your prowess in the kitchen. She said your desserts are pure magic." She chuckled and leaned close to Wynne. "Of course, she didn't mention that to the king."

Wynne giggled, knowing how averse Arthur was to magic. "That's good. I don't need to be in trouble for something else."

"Indeed," Berte replied, gazing fondly at her charge. "Now, what do you say we put the bad dreams aside and get to creating desserts that will be the talk of the North Kingdoms?"

Encouraged by Berte's kind, practical advice, Wynne returned to the kitchens with renewed confidence and energy. After taking stock of the bounteous resources, Wynne and a handful of servants made a dozen large, braided tarts stuffed with a tasty apple-raspberry-currant filling. Then they simmered a bushel of pears in spiced wine and mixed up a creamy cinnamon sauce to drizzle over them. Finally, they baked an assortment of pies and layer cakes, including an enormous buttery cake which Wynne topped by sprinkling sugar in the shape of Camelot's crest.

The night before the delegation's arrival, just as Wynne was putting the finishing touches on her masterpiece, Guinevere and Lady Magdalen came to the kitchens to make sure all was ready for the feast. They were well pleased with Theresa's preparation of the roast venison, boars, chickens and ducks, and they were satisfied with the platters of fruits, vegetables and breads. Wynne held her breath nervously as they examined her desserts. Berte stood back proudly, waiting to see their reaction. They ooh'ed and ahh'ed over Wynne's tarts and the pears, and they nodded with approval of her pies and cakes, but when they spied her masterpiece cake, their eyes almost popped out of their heads. "Wynifred!" Lady Magdalen exclaimed, grasping her chest. "This is…this is…magnificent! I knew you were talented, but I never dreamed you could create something so…exquisite!"

Guinevere was speechless at first, covering her mouth with her hand. With tears in her eyes, she murmured, "Oh, Wynne. I have never seen anything so beautiful. Please excuse me," she said, turning to hurry from the kitchens. "I simply must bring Arthur to see this!"

Several minutes later, Guinevere came hurrying back, practically dragging Arthur by the hand, "saying over and over, "You must see this! It's beautiful! I have never seen anything so wonderful!"

"For the love of Camelot, Gwen," he exclaimed irritably. "I'm sure it is, but it _is_ just a cake, after all!"

She stopped in front of Wynne's magnificent cake and held out her hands. "Look at that, Arthur, and tell me that _that_ is just a cake."

Arthur pursed his lips and turned his eyes to the cake, expecting to see just a larger version of something they had for dessert every night at Camelot. When he saw the intricate sugar design on top of the cake, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped incredulously. "Wynifred! _You_ did this?"

Wynne bobbed a quick curtsy and replied modestly, "Yes, your majesty. But the servants did help me. I couldn't have done it all myself."

Berte rushed forward and curtsied as well. "Your majesty, Wynne is being very humble. Yes, the servants helped her with the baking, but Wynne herself decorated this wonderful cake. She is a wonder in the kitchen."

Arthur turned to Wynne and smiled kindly. "She most certainly is. Well done, Wynifred. You have done yourself…and Camelot…proud. I simply cannot wait until the delegation sees what a talented young lady you are." He turned to Guinevere with a glint in his eye and warned, "But we had better keep Gwaine out of the kitchens. You know that one cannot resist a good dessert any more than he can resist a tankard of mead."

Wynne's smiled dimmed a bit at the mention of Gwaine, but the praises she received from Berte, Arthur, Guinevere, and even Lady Magdalen pleased her so greatly that they would carry her through some very dark days.


End file.
